#a bit of nessian angst

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (ixx, ao3)

(Chapter nineteen: Buckle up kids, we’ve got a lot to get through. Cassian arrives in Windhaven, where after setting the record straight with Mor, secrets are revealed. Feyre learns of the mating bond, and back below the wall, plans are in full swing for Elain’s wedding, but there’s something starting to concern the middle Archeron.) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

Cassian was certain she’d felt it.

As the wind raked sharp across his skin and an unsettled, disjointed kind of unease ticked through him, it was the only thing he could think of. He was so godsdamned sure of it, and it was the only fucking thing on his mind as resentment curled low in his stomach, a bitter taste coating his tongue as he clenched his fists, feeling the sword strapped to his back. Looking out at the ragged mountain he’d once called home, he was absolutely convinced that Nesta had felt the bond between them, and yet here he was, standing beneath a granite sky in Windhaven, looking not into Nesta’s mercury-blue eyes, but at Devon’s familiar face drawn together in a deep scowl, arms folded tight over his armoured chest. 

Rhys stood beside him, ordering the camp lord to clear out his mother’s old house, and at his back stood Feyre and Mor, huddled in the thickest cloaks they’d been able to find. Velaris might have been cradled by spring, but Windhaven clung still to winter, and the bare rock of the mountain loomed above, casting a long, cold shadow. As the wind screamed through the valley below, Cassian’s siphons pulsed, unsteady.

The single siphon on Devlon’s chest flared in kind, a brief spark in the emerald stone. Cassian was barely listening as Devlon protested, and though he noted the soldiers grouped as Devlon’s back, counted their weapons and clocked their positions, there was no pretending he was anything but hopelessly distracted. Foolish, to be so preoccupied in Illyria but—

This was the last place in the world he wanted to be right now.

With less than three hours of sleep behind him, he was feeling the absence of Nesta like a bruise. His patience was stretched thin, fraying like a piece of age-worn thread, and all he could think about was how much of himself felt missing, how much he was missing her, and not even Devlon and his men were enough to pull Cassian’s mind away from Nesta fucking Archeron. They’d been apart for a grand total of eight hours, and already he missed her like he’d been robbed of something vital.

He almost wanted to scream now, to roar, and was it any wonder, when his temper was balanced on a knife edge— and had been, ever since Azriel had showed up that morning to take his mate back below the wall, back to the bed she shared with another man?

As Devlon sent one of his men darting through the snow towards the house that had been Cassian’s first real home, Rhys turned towards Feyre and held out a hand, but Cassian could think only of how Az had arrived at the river just before sunrise. As Feyre’s hand slipped into Rhys’ palm, he watched and thought of how Nesta’s fingers had tightened around him when the first shadow had skirted the edge of the dock. Cassian had sent Az back up to the House to fetch Emerie’s book before taking Nesta home, and it was a desperate, pitiful attempt at stealing another few moments but it had worked. Cassian had held Nesta tighter in those borrowed seconds, afraid of letting go. He’d kissed her— softly at first, but then Nesta had practically moaned against him, and any sense of control he’d had snapped as the kiss turned feral, all hands and nails and teeth as they grasped at one another, sharing breath in the dark as their lips met like they were both of them trying to make up for lost time with that single aching kiss— 

But it was like trying to contain an ocean inside of a puddle, and soon it had drowned them both, leaving them gasping, shaking, eclipsing anything Cassian had ever felt in his life and—

“We’re heading out,” Rhys said to Feyre, turning his back on Devlon without bothering to dismiss him, and pulling Cassian, blinking, from his reverie. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus.

The western wind rattled through the camp, vicious and biting and as cold as the ice underfoot, and Rhys’ wings spread behind him, shielding Feyre from the worst of it. Cassian wondered if she noticed. If she’d seen the way Rhys had been drawn to her side, exposing the most sensitive parts of his wings to the cold as he sought to protect her from the weather. 

“We’re going to train,” Rhys continued. “Azriel is going to check if Elain has had word from the queens today. Until she does, we’re using the time here to practice.”

Feyre nodded, stepping closer into Rhys’ side as the wind rustled his sable hair. Her hand curled around his, and Cassian turned away, feeling the sharp tug of envy in his chest. It just didn’t seem fair, didn’t seem right, that his mate should be so far away, when only hours ago he’d had her in his arms, falling stars reflected in her eyes as she felt the bond twining his heart and hers. 

“Check on the forces,” Rhys instructed, meeting Cassian’s eye above Feyre’s head. “See that the girls are training, and do whatever needs to be done to ensure our forces are in peak condition. We’ll be back by nightfall.”

Grimly, Cassian nodded.

“Stay out of trouble,” Rhys added as he looked to the line of the trees in the distance, their branches tipped with ice. He offered Mor a weary smile as he raised an eyebrow, and as he pulled Feyre into his arms and lifted her off her feet, Mor scoffed. 

Then they were gone, leaving only silence in their wake as Mor watched her cousin leave, flying fast towards the dense thicket of trees at the mountain’s base. The smile on her face fell away, replaced by a terse kind of quiet as Cassian looked for something to say and came up empty.

They hadn’t spoken since that night at the Hewn City, and there wasn’t a single word to be found between them now— not one, not as they waited for the soldiers to file out of Rhys’ mother’s house, not when they marched through the snow and made it to the front door Cassian knew so well, not when they crossed the threshold, and not when the door closed behind them.

Just— nothing.

It was a silence that was awkward, heavy and complete as Mor took off her cloak and draped it over the back of the sofa. She didn’t sit— instead she lingered, standing in the centre of the sitting room that Cassian had spent so much of his youth in, and as she cast her eyes over all four walls, Cassian knew without her needing to speak that she was thinking the same thing he was when he, too, looked around.

Nothing had changed.

The same watercolour paintings hung over the same mantelpiece, the same few books lined the shelves in one corner. The floorboards beneath his feet still bore the scuffs of a fight he and Rhys had once gotten into, and for all the world it felt like Rhys’ mother might just step out of the kitchen and offer them both some stew. But like a fine layer of dust, there was a patina of old grief draped across it all, and Cassian’s heart tugged as the silence deepened, echoing in the house that had never felt empty before, not when he was a boy. 

He hadn’t been back since Rhys became High Lord, and as Cassian cut through the sitting room and made for the doorway leading to the kitchen - Mor drifting behind him and rubbing her hands together for warmth - suddenly he felt the past raise its head, old ghosts stirring as the anguish he felt over Nesta was compounded, redoubled. Suddenly, he remembered the very first time he and Mor had met, standing in that same kitchen.

Rhys’ mother had been there too, and his sister, with that laugh of hers that had always seemed to echo. There had been five places set at the table then, the scent of cinnamon and hot chocolate hanging in the air. Gone, now. All of it gone, and how did Cassian even begin to measure all the things that had changed since that day, when Mor had first stepped beneath that door? Where did he even start?

She’s a damned viper, Cassian.

He recalled Mor’s words from the Hewn City, and as he filled the kettle and slammed it on the stove, he felt his resolve harden. Mor was complicated— he knew that. His past was woven tight with hers, and he knew, too, that her dislike of Nesta wasn’t something entirely personal, rather a desperate attempt at keeping the status quo. But Nesta was Cassian’s mate, and he wasn’t about to let anything slide when it came to her.

Never when it came to her.

So— he refused to be the one to break the silence, and as Mor looked flatly at the single cup Cassian set out on the counter, she let out a bitter huff and turned away. Only when Cassian heard a door close loudly upstairs did he let his head drop towards his chest.

Ruefully, he sighed and prepared himself for a long, agonising stint in Illyria.

***

The next morning, Rhys and Feyre left early.

In the room he’d once shared with both of his brothers, Cassian woke with the dawn to inspect the camps, and looking over to the bed by the window, he found Rhys slowly waking. The High Lord dragged a hand through his hair, shaking off the sleep that still clung to him, and when Cassian clapped him on the shoulder and told him he’d gone soft if he couldn’t handle a dawn wake up call anymore, Rhys had snarled and told him to fuck off— just the way he had when they were boys. Rhys hadn’t been a morning person back then, either.

But that was hours ago, and now Cassian stood at the side of the training ring at the cliff’s edge, looking out over the mountains as before him boys - not men - sparred with wooden practice blades. The snow was drifting, dusting the ground as the morning wore on, refusing to melt.

This place was always fucking cold.

Casting an eye over the ring, Cassian picked out the bastards in the bunch easily. Four of them, who looked like the cold hadn’t just touched them, it had crawled inside their bones and made itself at home. Their cheeks were tinged with pink, noses red, and there were more than a few fingers far too close to frostbite. He knew what that was like, and being in Windhaven, staying in Rhys’ old house… it had all kinds of old feelings stirring in his gut, twisting inside as he looked at the worn leathers and ill-fitting boots, watching the four bastard boys hit harder than the rest - fight harder than the rest - for no recognition or reward.

He knew what that was like, too.

His stomach soured, and yet he didn’t move on. Though he was supposed to be inspecting the rest of the camp, Cassian stayed until their training was done, and as the other boys began to leave the ring, Cassian lingered. Something kept him there, stationary in the snow, and as the first of the bastards hurried past, Cassian brought him to a halt with a palm on an entirely too-thin shoulder. The boy’s hands looked so painfully cold that Cassian almost winced. 

“Find Emerie,” he said lowly. “Tell her to give you a pair of her thickest gloves and take extra for your friends.” He nodded to the three other boys slowly putting away their practice swords. “I’ll call on her later to settle the bill.”

The boy whispered a stunned thank you, General before racing towards Emerie’s shop, and Cassian’s heart tugged. Rhys wanted the armies in peak condition, but good soldiers were being left to starve and freeze as a consequence of their birth, and though getting the girls to train had been a start, Windhaven was just as cruel as ever and coastlines changed faster than the camp lords.

Cassian had had enough.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, he sighed heavily, pushing away from the wooden posts that surrounded the training ring. He’d see Emerie tomorrow, he decided. Place an order for gloves and leathers and have them distributed to the poorest of the soldiers— the bastards and the orphans. While he was there, he decided too, he’d pick up another book for Nesta, for when he saw her next— whenever that might be. 

Resigned, he let loose another grumbling sigh before glowering at the sky and heading back towards the house. The mountain cast a long shadow, plunging Windhaven into deeper darkness as the sun dropped behind the summit, and when Cassian pushed open the front door and found Mor wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, fluffy socks on her feet and a book in her lap, he stilled. With the snow melting on his boots he paused in the hallway, wanting nothing more than to avoid her. But it was difficult, he’d learned, to avoid someone when you were sharing a house roughly the size of a postage stamp.

Looking through the living room and into the kitchen, searching for his brother even though he could tell by the silence that the house was empty, Cassian frowned.

“Rhys and Feyre back yet?” he asked tersely, his voice clipped and tight. When Mor shook her head, he looked to the window.

It was the first exchange since the Hewn City, and when Cassian nodded curtly and made for the stairs, Mor closed her book and set it down beside her. They had argued before, but in all the centuries they had known one another, the fallout had never lasted longer than an hour. Never had it been like this, never so strained.

“Cass,” Mor said, sliding her fluffy-socked feet to the floor. “Can we just… stop whatever this is?”

“I didn’t start whatever this is,” Cassian answered flatly. He turned and leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “So I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to stop it.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Why are you being so damned defensive? Why does what I said at the Hewn City even matter—”

“Why does it matter?” Cassian repeated, indignant. His voice was thick with scorn, practically incredulous as Mor shook her golden head, waving a hand in frustration.

“Look, from what Feyre has told us about her sister—”

“You don’t know her,” Cassian cut in. “You don’t know a damn thing.”

“And you do? After a handful of weeks, you think you know her better than her own sister?”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. Boldly, he shrugged. “Yes.”

Mor’s eyes shuttered, grew dark. “I just want you to be happy,” she said lowly. “And I don’t see how—”

She cut herself off with an irate sigh, tipping her head back to the ceiling. Her golden earrings danced, her hair cascading in waves down her back. 

“Take it from me, Cass. From someone else who once got too involved with a human.” 

She dropped her gaze, finding his as the hardness in her expression was slowly replaced by something older, something more sombre. Ancient grief shone in her eyes as an old wound was torn open— and it was one Cassian hadn’t even known she’d been dealt. Her face was limned with old agony, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as she drew it between her teeth. Confusion drew his eyebrows together, his lips parting as he opened his mouth to speak - to ask - but Mor shook her head in a single sharp movement.

“Trust me. The only way this ends is in heartbreak,” she finished, and something about the pain lining her face had Cassian’s anger drawing back, receding a little as he let his folded arms drop.

“It’s my heart to break,” he said quietly— but not softly. His voice was as firm as ever, resolute, because he’d made his decision, hadn’t he? Weeks ago, the day after the bond had snapped. He’d decided then that the centuries of sorrow he’d endure without her would be worth it for even one day by her side. “So stay out of it.”

“She’s human, Cass—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he countered roughly, feeling the bond strain in his chest, constricting his lungs and squeezing his heart until it felt like it would burst. With a hand, he gestured to the window. To the camp outside. “Not when I could be dead in a week. Or had you forgotten why we were here?”

“How could I forget?” she answered, incredulous. “It’s all the more reason you can’t afford a distraction—”

“A distraction?” Cassian hissed, but Mor only lifted her chin, steadfast.

“Is that not what she is? Tell me honestly, Cass. Out there yesterday morning— were you thinking of all that needs to be done to win this war, or were you thinking of her?”

Cassian snarled, but he couldn’t answer. No, he hadn’t been worried about Devlon out there yesterday. He’d been too busy thinking of the way Nesta had felt in his arms. He hadn’t been thinking of soldiers to train, supplies to organise, camps to inspect. He’d been thinking of silver-blue eyes and a bracelet he’d tied around a slender wrist, so much more meaningful than the wedding ring on her finger. He thought of her in every waking moment… but she wasn’t a distraction.

She was the opposite.

“I’ll win this war because of her,” he said darkly. “Because if losing means harm coming to her, than losing isn’t an option. So don’t doubt me when I say, Mor, that I don’t want your advice. I’m as focused as I need to be.”

Mor sniffed, and as his words hung in the air between them, the silence stretched, morphed. The tension shifted as anger devolved into something like anguish, red hot fury melting into something just a little less fraught than before— still jagged, but a little less sharp, and for the first time in days, the silence didn’t feel awkward. Still though, Cassian didn’t move from his spot by the door, and Mor didn’t rise from the sofa. They remained, frozen, until Mor shifted, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” she said at last, drawing one knee up to her chest. Her eyes closed, and Cassian wondered what she’d kept hidden all these years, what human had stolen her heart. Still, he lifted his chin, not a shred of uncertainty in his veins.

“I do,” he answered, taking his first step into the sitting room. Mor looked up at him, resting her chin on her knee as he let out a heavy sigh and lowered himself down at the other end of the sofa. Tentatively, he tilted his head.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, “about the human you loved.”

Mor smiled sadly, her eyes distant as, mute, she shook her head. He noted the sorrow on her face, all that heartache she’d endured alone and in secret, and as a single, solitary tear tracked down her cheek…

Cassian couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking at a version of his own future, a preview of his own pain.

A glimpse of the grief that awaited him. 

***

His heart was still heavy when he awoke the next day, and as dawn broke and Cassian found the bed on the other side of the room still empty, Cassian knew with absolute, unwavering certainty that something was wrong. The siphon on his hand pulsed uneasily, ice spreading along his limbs as he slid from beneath the covers and pulled on his leathers, his hands stumbling over the ties as he swore softly and looked out at the window, at the untouched snow leading to the front door.

Rhys and Feyre hadn’t come home.

Cassian refused to think of the last time Rhys hadn’t returned. Refused to entertain the idea, or to remember all those decades he’d spent waiting in vain for his brother to come back, but nevertheless apprehension was thick in his stomach as, barefoot, he went in search of Mor across the hall. But she hadn’t heard anything from Rhys either, and just as Cassian had pulled on his boots to go out there and search the mountainside himself—

Through the window, he saw his High Lord materialise in the snow.

Rhys sank to his knees, as if all his strength had departed, and with Mor quick on his heels, Cassian rushed for the door, heart hammering as he wrenched it open just in time to see Feyre tear her arm from Rhys’ grip. The High Lord let out a small sound, something between agony and grief as Feyre walked away.

Cassian’s concern spiked as he lurched out into the snow.

“What happened?” he demanded, but Rhys was too busy trying to steady his breathing to speak, a hand pressed to his side as if he were wounded, and Feyre had already stormed past him and headed right for Mor instead. Cassian frowned, about to ask his brother what the fuck was happening, and then— he noticed Rhys’ torn leathers. The mud on his knees, the shadows beneath his eyes, the hair messier than Cassian had ever seen it.

The blood on his fingers.

Fucking hell— Rhys looked like he was at death’s door, his skin drawn and ashen as he fought to keep his eyes open. Cassian reached for him, bringing him to his feet and helping him to stand, his entire frame weak and unsteady. Cassian turned and looked to Mor, but she was standing torn, her gaze flitting between Rhys - hardly strong enough to carry his own weight - and Feyre, standing with indignation on her face, her hands outstretched as she grabbed Mor’s forearm.

“Take me somewhere far away,” she said. Her voice was leaden, anger etched onto her features as she stood firm, not sparing the weakened lord at her back a second glance. “Right now.”

Mor hesitated, drawing a lip between her teeth as she looked from the Cursebreaker to her cousin.

“Please,” Feyre said, her voice breaking as that single word had Rhys trying to lurch forward, slipping from Cassian’s grip even as his legs gave out once more. Rhys kneeled in the snow, panting as he struggled to rise, the hair hanging limply over his face as he tried to lift his neck. All over again, Cassian wondered what in the ever-loving fuck had happened, but Feyre’s anguish was palpable, and Mor’s eyes were fraught with indecision.

Rhys moaned Feyre’s name, a broken plea as Mor swallowed and extended a hand. She nodded, and Feyre’s tattooed fingers closed around her own in the heartbeat before Mor winnowed them away, leaving nothing behind but footprints in the snow and the High Lord of the Night Court, broken on the floor.

Cassian hauled him to his feet, Rhys’ arm slung around his shoulders as he gripped his brother around the middle, feeling the tears in his leather with his fingertips, tears that seemed to have been made by arrowheads.

“What happened?” Cassian asked again.

Rhys shook his head, but it was an effort as Cassian guided him towards the house. 

“I fucked up Cass,” he answered, his voice hoarse, words slipping from between cracked lips as every breath seemed to tax him. He lifted his head just enough to meet Cassian’s eye, and there was something akin to horror in the widened violet. Mournfully, Rhys let his head drop once more.

“Feyre knows about the bond,” he rasped. “And I… I think I might have just lost her for good.”

***

The air was thick with the scent of flowers.

Hyacinths, peonies, roses.

All of them laid out on the table as Elain picked out her wedding bouquet, humming lightly as she dragged a finger over the different stems, plucking up each bloom and holding it against the other to find the most perfect arrangement. Beside her, Greysen held a sheaf of papers in his hands, his light brown hair falling easily over his forehead as he rifled through guest lists and seating arrangements and plans of his father’s estate— all the small, excruciating details that would come together to form the society event of the season. When he handed Elain a list of vineyards supplying the wine for the wedding, an iron band gleamed dark on his wrist.

Nesta watched as it slipped back beneath his sleeve, silent in her spot by the window.

Elain’s voice rang through the airy space of the Archeron morning room, and as the conversation drifted away from flowers to focus on where exactly the ceremony would be held on Lord Nolan’s estate, Nesta let her eyes fall back to the book in her lap. Turning the pages of Emerie’s latest, she settled into the role of chaperone more than anything else, only barely listening as her sister and future brother-in-law combed through the plans for their wedding.

“Beneath the ironwood trees perhaps,” Greysen suggested, pointing at a spot on the map. “The foliage is quite lovely this time of year, especially in the grove—”

“No,” Elain shook her head. “No I think I’d rather somewhere…”

Somewhere other than beneath the trees used to make weapons that can kill my sister, Nesta thought wryly, not lifting her gaze from the pages before her. Elain sighed.

“Somewhere brighter,” she finished, and if Greysen thought it strange, he said nothing. He only shrugged, turning his blue eyes back to the map.

Nesta had been listening to them for an hour.

She’d arrived at her father’s estate early that morning after a letter was delivered at the Mandray house, just as she’d sat down to breakfast. She’d cracked the seal immediately, finding a letter from Elain that had her pushing away her plate and preparing to leave before the messenger that had delivered the note had even left the courtyard.

Nesta, Elain had written. I know it’s short notice, but please— come for tea this morning? I could use the company, what with father gone, and I had such terrible dreams last night that I’d rather not be alone. Greysen is coming later to talk about the wedding, but I’d like to see you before then. Perhaps you can help me look over the designs for my dress? All my love, Elain.

Tomas hadn’t liked it.

He’d sneered and scowled and said that unless Nesta was going to bring back a purse full of gold, she was wasting her time. He’d caught her by the door, hand closing about her wrist, lip curling as his eyes fell on the bracelet tied there. Like Cassian had suggested, she’d told him it was a gift from Elain, but Tomas hadn’t seemed to buy it. His grip had tightened, almost painful, and Nesta had hissed before wrenching herself away, so hard her wrist barked beneath the pressure. Without a word, she’d slammed the door behind her and now she was here— listening to her sister plan her wedding like she had no cares in the world, when Elain had been so troubled that morning that she’d sent for her older sister, so shaken that her hands had trembled on her teacup. 

She’d been dreaming of Clare Beddor lately.

It’s silly, Elain had said over their first pot of tea, looking down at the cup balanced in her hand. I just keep thinking about her. About her whole family. Gone—killed. And poor Clare, taken in the dead of night.

Her voice had grown quiet, her eyes haunted, as Elain looked up. In my dreams they come for us, too, she’d whispered.

Nesta had felt a chill run through her entire body. It was just a dream, and yet a shudder had racked her, thundering through her as Elain had taken a quivering breath.

They come for us too, she’d repeated, and a slick, foreboding kind of dread had coated the inside of Nesta’s veins, her heartbeat rising, uneven, as she searched in vain for the words to comfort her sister. 

Greysen had interrupted them then, and Elain had shaken it off, plastering a wide smile on her face that betrayed little. It was dulled only at the edges by the concern in her eyes, but Greysen hadn’t seemed to notice as he kissed Elain on the cheek and Nesta rose, moving to the armchair by the window to let him sit on the sofa with his betrothed. She had pulled Emerie’s book out of the canvas bag she’d brought with her when she left the Mandray house, grateful for the distraction.

She didn’t trust Tomas not to find it, so she kept the book with her, along with the dagger Cassian had given her. Both were a comfort now— the latter, especially. It was tucked in the pockets of her skirts, a steady weight at her thigh, and even though some sensible part of her knew that Elain’s dreams were nothing to fear…

She shook her head, dropping her gaze to her wrist, to the bracelet there that somehow soothed the sharpest edges of her worry. She thought of Starfall, the way they had danced and kissed and clung to one another, and suddenly she had to blink to focus on the words on the page, her mind scattered and only one word cutting through the tangled mess of her thoughts.

Cassian.

Gods— he had ruined her.

He’d destroyed her entirely, taken her heart and marked it— claimed it. How could she ever again pretend that her marriage to Tomas was what she wanted? How could she look at the ring on her finger and pretend it had been worth it, when she didn’t have the energy to deny it anymore? It was Cassian she wanted, he she craved, and there was no turning from it now.

She was too far gone.

Nesta spent another hour in that chair, her eyes moving idly over the page as she only pretended to read. She took none of it in, too preoccupied with the memory of the warrior above the wall, and the way he’d called her his. She was distracted— so distracted that it was only when the clock chimed noon and Greysen rose to his feet that she realised she’d not been listening at all.

After giving Elain a sweet farewell that Nesta couldn’t help but think rang hollow, he left, leaving her alone with her sister as Elain plucked up the thick pile of papers from the table and pulled out one from the very, very bottom

“Here,” she said as Nesta rose from the chair and took back the seat on the sofa she’d given up when Greysen arrived. Elain held out the paper. A sketch for a dress. “Its from the dressmaker in the village,” she explained, smoothing her skirts as the servants brought in a fresh pot of tea. “What do you think?”

Nesta held it in hand, casting her eyes over her sister’s wedding dress.

It was beautiful.

All flowing skirts and elegant sleeves, there were flowers embroidered at the hem and around the wrists. Delicate material gathered at the waist before sweeping down in a cascade of blush, pale pink skirts. It was staggeringly pretty, exactly the kind of dress that Nesta envisioned Elain in, and with the hyacinths set out on the table… It was lovely. But— a tiara had been added at the top of the faceless figure drawn on the paper, sketched in charcoal. It was a thin band of grey shaped to look somewhat like a wreath, fashioned with leaves that might have looked pretty— but it was iron, and it’s sharpness was a horrible contrast to the soft, pale pink of the gown and the pearls that Elain would wear at her neck and ears.

Nesta fought back a frown. “It’s… beautiful.”

Elain noted the hesitation. “It’s the tiara, isn’t it? You hate it.”

Nesta didn’t bother to deny it, and Elain let out a sigh that soon turned into a groan.

“So do I,” she admitted. “But it was Greysen’s mother’s. His father gave it to her on their wedding day, and it would mean a lot to both of them if I wear it.”

Greysen’s mother had died years ago, and Nesta could understand the sentiment but… did everything have to be made from iron?

“It is pretty,” Elain said, her lilting voice turning somewhat conciliatory. “Aside from the iron, it is pretty.” She sighed again. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice that I’m willing to make.”

Nesta stiffened. 

Elain hadn’t called it a compromise. She’d called it a sacrifice, and as Nesta looked at the flowers laid out on the table, the hyacinths in various shades of pink, she frowned in earnest. She didn’t think the word sacrifice was usually associated with weddings, and it was all too reminiscent of her own marriage.

Greysen was fine enough, she supposed. Wealthy and landed, titled— a decent match.  Elain could do worse. But perhaps, Nesta thought darkly, she could do better, too. Elain deserved somebody that would give her diamonds, not iron, and silently she wondered whether Elain would wilt like the flowers on the table the moment she was sequestered behind those high stone walls.

Elain waved a hand, shaking her head.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject. “I don’t think the iron tiara is the worst of our problems. Greysen thinks its strange that Feyre won’t be at the wedding.”

Nesta shrugged. “Well, you could always tell him that your sister was turned into one of the fae and see how strange he thinks that is in comparison.”

Elain rolled her eyes, batting Nesta on the arm.

“I wish she could come. I want her there, but…” She trailed off. “Perhaps if she came with Rhysand? He hid behind a glamour once before, that day they first came here. Perhaps he could make them both look… human?”

“And if he can’t?” Nesta asked. “If somebody should see through it?”

Elain huffed, defeated. She pushed the papers away, letting the sketch for her dress lie discarded at the top of the pile.

“Do you think there’s something between them?” she asked curiously, turning away from talk of the wedding altogether. “Feyre and Rhysand.”

Nesta sipped her tea. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Never mind that Feyre and Rhysand were… bonded. Cassian had told her about the mating bond, but it was still so foreign, so inexplicable, that Nesta couldn’t quite wrap her head about it. She wasn’t about to tell Elain— not when she wasn’t sure if Feyre even knew about it herself yet. She could think of nothing worse, if everyone else knew whilst Feyre was left in the dark. It didn’t exactly endear her to Rhysand, but still she kept her mouth shut. In silence, she dropped her gaze and dragged a fingertip lightly around the edge of her saucer.

Elain hummed. “He seems nice enough. I told you, didn’t I? That first day they stayed here. I said he seems nice.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Nesta said nothing. Rhysand was all smiles with Elain, but he tended to look at Nesta like she’d committed some great wrong just by stepping into the same room as him. The arrogance rolled off him in waves, and it didn’t matter if he was devoted to Feyre. Nesta didn’t like him.

But Elain tilted her head innocently, almost idly as a small, curious smile crossed her face that she quickly hid. She tapped a finger against her teacup, making the porcelain sing.

“They’re all nice I suppose, “ she continued lightly, humming as she reached out to straighten the flowers on the table. “And I like Azriel, even though he’s quiet. He’s the charming type, don’t you think?”

Nesta wondered where Elain was going with this— what angle she was striving for. But her sister did nothing but lift the teacup to her pale pink lips, delicate fingers curling around the saucer’s gilded edge. She didn’t look to her elder sister, only kept her eyes forward in a perfectly crafted display of nonchalance. Outside, the trees lining the borders of the estate swayed in a gentle breeze, and Elain looked absently out to the green-tipped branches as she let out a soft little hum.

Nesta had known her sister for twenty-two years. She knew when she was up to something, and as Elain sat there, sipping elegantly from her teacup and avoiding Nesta’s eyes, there was no doubt in Nesta’s mind.

Elain was up to something.

“And, well,” she said casually, almost idly. “Cassian certainly knows how to get under your skin.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “He’s incessant, that’s what he is,” she countered. “He knows exactly how to stir my temper, so perhaps I wouldn’t describe him as nice.”

Elain smirked. “Well, when I said he knows how to get under your skin, I didn’t mean it in quite that sense.”

She looked up suggestively, raising an eyebrow and glancing at her sister from the corner of her eye. A moment passed, a single beat, and in the silence Nesta felt her shock give way to something else, something… lighter. Elain’s eyes glittered, and Nesta was so surprised that she barked a laugh, setting her teacup down on her saucer with a clatter. Her mother would have had her head for it, but…

Well, her mother wasn’t here.

Elain’s lips pressed together as a look of satisfaction bloomed in her eyes, as if she’d gotten all the information she’d wanted, just from the look on Nesta’s face, from the surprised laugh that had burst from her chest. Nesta blinked, and then they were both laughing, the way they hadn’t in years, not since before they lost their money. Elain’s hand fluttered to her chest as her cheeks turned pink with mirth, and as Nesta shook her head, she forced her smile away.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” she said at last, her tone laden with a kind of faux innocence, a steadiness she didn’t feel.

“Of course you don’t,” Elain countered with a roll of her eyes. Still, her lips curved into a gentle smile, and for a moment there was silence, comfortable and complete. And then Elain let out a huff. “Oh, I wish you’d told me you were so unhappy with Tomas, Nesta.”

She turned to face Nesta on the sofa, the fabric of her dress rustling as she shifted closer, angling herself so she faced her sister fully. She put her own porcelain saucer down on the table, folding her hands in her lap as her expression turned pleading, turned sorrowful. 

“What difference would it have made?” Nesta shrugged. “It was already done.”

“It’s not too late, surely—“

Softly, Nesta shook her head. “But it is, Elain.”

Elain’s lips pursed, and a brow formed between her brows. “We could forge a family tree that says Tomas is your cousin,” she suggested brightly. “That would make the marriage void and none could dispute it.”

“And then Tomas and his father would want to claim their share of father’s money if they think we’re related,” Nesta pointed out. Elain cursed under her breath.

“We could fake your death,” she suggested. “Or poison him. I know exactly which plants to use that won’t leave a trace, and—“

Nesta leaned over to pat Elain’s arm, grateful even as her sister started to plot a murder. A smile pulled at her lips, a warmth blooming in her chest. There was no need for any of it, she thought, because as soon as Elain was married, she’d take Cassian up on his offer. The world above the wall might still terrify her, and she might have panicked at Starfall, but she could get used to it slowly— acclimatise. Elain’s voice trailed off, and Nesta’s smile remained.

“I love you, Elain,” she said. “For trying to kill my husband for me.”

Elain gave her a small smile in return. “What are sisters for?”

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling @valkyriesupremacy @that-little-red-head @sv0430

[jasmineandcedar]

Get a grip

An Elriel one shot (Azriel’s POV).

(jump down to “keep reading” if you want to go straight to the one shot - mind the tags)

I see adoration, connection, and beautiful consent in how SJM has written Elain and Azriel’s relationship. We see how they narratively lift each other as characters, just like Nessian and Feysand. Azriel is Elain’s choice - her breaking free of the stifling expectations that have plagued her. With Elain's encouragement, we see self-sacrificing Azriel finally rest and able to fight his feelings of being unworthy of touch and romantic love.

On top of how they care for each other, there is also mutual lust - in the most beautiful slow-burn of the ACOTAR series (if you ask me).

Whilst I will always have a weakness for Elriel's quiet and gentle love, here’s a celebration of the sometimes misunderstood aspects of their developing romance - lust and desire. Inspired by Azriel's bonus chapter, it's my attempt at depicting how Azriel’s racing thoughts and desire for Elain might manifest at night, when only the Mother might witness him. It's also a celebration of Elain and the desirable things about her. A light-hearted vindication of the shadowsinger and the seer - whose only crime seems to be desiring each other, both sexually and romantically. (I love me a forbidden romance! 🤭)

I shall let them.

Warning: smut (sexual fantasies, jerking off), angst

(This is my first attempt at writing something even remotely smutty. It’s all in good fun!).

I wrote this thinking of it as a continuation of my one shot Wingspan (you’ll find it here, but you don’t need to read it to read this one).

_______

Azriel arrived at the House of Wind with hot frustration pulsing through his normally icy veins. Shadows swirled at his feet as he ran a hand through his windswept hair, tucked in his wings, and entered the lower levels of the House. With Nesta and Cassian already fast asleep, he hurried through the corridors towards his room. His steps were guided by muscle memory alone, his thoughts racing with images of Elain.

Since fate had cruelly decided they couldn’t have each other, the thought of her would have to do—for now.

And it would do.

Thoughts of her fingers grazing his. The jolt that went through his body as their eyes met. Her golden-brown hair falling in waves like a silken waterfall down her back. How the chilly night air painted her cheeks and nose in a lovely shade of pink. The gentle care with which she nurtured life into being in every garden she touched.

It was curious—how a single memory of her could satiate him more than sharing shallow corporeal pleasures with another had ever been able to. He hadn't seen the point in any of that in a long time, couldn’t fathom why he ever had, now that he could steal glances from Elain Archeron, secretly brush his fingers against hers, or simply watch her be.

The ache in his chest was rivalled only by the ache in his pants. As it were, he could only do something about one of those aches tonight. He fully intended to. He would take advantage of that ache currently throbbing in his pants until he was a throbbing mess in his bed. It was the only hope he had of getting any sleep.

He entered his room, grateful for the solitude of the late hour. Locking the door behind him, he only managed a few strides inside before he fell back against the stone wall, spreading his wings along the cool and smooth surface for some relief. He let his shadows—the ones that weren’t already asleep—seal his room off from any unwanted attention.

Then, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

His lips parted as his fingers drifted to his waist, tugging at his shirt to undo the fasteners of his pants. His fingers were cold from his flight, and he shuddered as they grazed the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen. He leaned his head back against the wall and let out another deep breath before he bit his lower lip. Hard.

He inhaled.

Thoughts of her flashed through his mind—her delicate fingers twirling the string of her apron, the way she swept strands of golden-brown behind her ear as she knelt in the garden.

He exhaled.

Fuck me, he thought behind closed eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall again, a little harder than necessary.  

Perhaps it was pathetic, the level of detail with which he had committed to memory even the most minute of encounters with her. He could live with that. Somehow, he didn’t mind it at all. Those minute encounters seemed to be what kept his heart pumping, after all. What he couldn’t live with was that raging ache that threatened to rip through his pants if he didn’t deal with it soon.

He groaned with relief as he finished unfastening his pants to grip his cock. He was painfully hard, to a degree only Elain Archeron could induce. He wrapped his fingers firmly around his length and let them glide over it.

"Elain Archeron," he sighed at the thought of her. To his shock, he heard himself almost giggle at the way her name slipped from his lips.

Then, because no one was there to witness the fearsome Spymaster, he whispered her name into the night one more time, as if to taste it. Despite his misery, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. It was sweet like honey, the way her name took shape on his tongue—just like her gentle soul, which seemed to understand both the words he spoke and didn’t speak.

His grip around his cock tightened, hand wrapping around it much in the same way he was wrapped around Elain’s finger.

His heart had belonged to her and her alone since she had given him that headache powder—when she had made him feel genuine happiness for the first time since he didn’t know when. It had been hers since she chose to spend her first Solstice night with him, of all people, sharing her dreams for the gardens. Her eyes of molten chocolate had lit up and he had looked at her in awe, undisturbed, until dawn. He wasn’t even sure if he had blinked; he hadn't wanted to miss a single second of her elation. That night, she had taught him what joy felt like, and it had stunned him.

He wanted desperately to return to that night. To be able to look into her warm brown eyes without suspicion or accusation from anyone over what his heart desired. He wanted to go back and give her his heart again, just to make sure she knew it was hers.

But perhaps she had already wrapped his heart in her soft hands when she looked upon his brutalized ones and breathed the last word he would ever have associated with himself, regardless of how many times others spoke it of him.

Beautiful, she had breathed.

And he had believed her.

Yes, he was hers already.

The things he would do to not just be hers, but to call her mine.

The thought of it had him tightening his grip on his cock. Slowly and firmly, he let his fingers glide from the base of his length and stop just below the head. The pleasure of it all was excruciating. He had always thought the line between pleasure and pain was a rather fine one, a proclivity he now reaped the benefits of.

He groaned, his breathing growing heavier. He wanted desperately to bring himself over the edge, but he wasn’t done yet. Rolling his head back, he focused, exhaling deeply and feeling the muscles of his core contract. Then the ache in his chest mirrored the ache he gripped between his fingers as he stroked himself again, even harder, for good measure. He felt his body twitch at the impact.

That’s it, he thought to himself as he got himself closer to that blissful edge and forced himself to hover in that space where pleasure and pain intermingled.

If she would let him, he would grab hold of her and never let go. Yes. If she wanted it, he would hold onto her.

Hard.

With both hands.

From behind.

And fuck her slowly.

The thought alone nearly pushed him over the edge. That wouldn’t do—he wasn’t ready for this to end just yet. He shook his head, relaxed his grip on himself and let out another trembling breath.

What he could do to her from behind, though, should she want it… He would wrap those golden-brown waves around his fist like a belt and pull her up against him. He would tilt her beautiful face the way he wanted it—the way they both wanted it—just like he had done that second Solstice night, giving him perfect access to her lovely neck.

That neck of hers. He sighed desperately at the image that flashed before him. Of course, Elain had to have the most delectable neck in all of Prythian.

Unable to hold back, his grip around his length tightened again as he clenched his jaw, held his breath, and stroked himself fiercely to the thought of it.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He let out his breath and forced himself to loosene his grip again.

That second Solstice night was etched on his mind like the tattoos etched on his upper body. He had been the luckiest bastard in all the realms combined when she had allowed his fingers to taint the velvety skin of her neck. No—when she had urged him to stroke the velvety skin of her neck, with the way she had leaned into him.

He groaned, his hand tightening reflexively at the memory, the implication of her actions that  night almost bringing him to completion once again.

She had wanted it. Wanted him. He knew that now. And that small, precious truth was enough for him to keep battling those demons that told him otherwise.

“Get it together,” he panted, the muscles in his upper body once again contracting with each ragged breath. He resorted to dazedly letting his fingers glide in long motions along his length as he indulged in the memory of her.

It was a fruitless endeavour. He knew he would be frantically stroking himself again in a few moments anyway.

He was insatiable. And she was too lovely.

That neck.

He had let his thumb draw lazy circles on that flawless neck. No—there had been nothing lazy about it. His focus on her that night had been sharper than any duty had ever commanded his attention. And when that sweet, intoxicating scent of her arousal had reached his nostrils, he had almost fallen to his knees. An unusual urge almost anything Elain did seemed to inspire in him.

Azriel wasn’t one to kneel before anything or anyone. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had done it once—that one time he had knelt before Elain when he rescued her from those Hybern scum. She was the exception to that rule.

No, kneeling before Elain was the rule.

He’d live his life by that rule if she would let him.

She could hold his gaze with those beautiful eyes that looked upon this miserable world with such fierce hope, and it was like a kick to the back of his knees. He would be on the floor begging already if he only let go of what was left of that restraint he hung onto for dear life whenever she was around.

Eyes closed, his shirt clinging to his hot skin, he leaned heavily against the wall and tilted his head to the side. His racing thoughts drifted back to her—to those soft waves of golden brown that would wrap so perfectly around his fist. The cool touch of the stone wall against his wings added to the sensation as he rolled his hips, letting his cock glide through his tight grip with slow, hard thrusts—just like he would fuck her if they ever got the chance.

How many thrusts would it take before she collapsed in his arms? He chuckled, low and dark. It didn’t matter much. As if one time would ever be enough. Since he was apparently known for being such a cruel bastard, he would show her all the ways he could make her come until it was her turn to beg for mercy. He smiled at the thought before he felt that sting in his chest return.

Skin to skin—that was where they belonged. Breathing the same air. With his hand tangled in her soft curls, he’d whisper praise in her ear, shower her soft skin with the equally soft kisses she deserved, her back pressed against his chest as he made love to her. He had a feeling she would like that just as much as he would. Maybe she would even treat him to a moan. The mere thought of her moans was like a fist around his cock.

He could certainly make her moan.

Oh, the ways in which he could make Elain moan. Perhaps he would even make a quest of it.

With his tongue, that’s how he would start. Her inner thigh. And, Mother save him, when he got between those inner thighs…

When he had Elain coming on his tongue.

When she wrapped those thighs around his face as he had her coming on his tongue.

He almost sobbed at the thought of it, fisting his cock ferociously, grip rough and brows furrowed as all thoughts of restraint shattered.

“Fuck it,” he panted.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he as he came with her name on his lips, his skin overheated and body quivering. His head tipped back against the wall, pleasure pulsing through him like the tremor that had rippled through his veins when she met his gaze earlier tonight. His lips parted and a low moan, followed by a string of curses, spilled out of him.

A few moments passed as he caught his breath, dazedly stroking himself through the last waves of pleasure before he finally opened his eyes. He looked around the room lazily. Then, realization dawned on him. He swore again, low and dirty, at the mess he had made.

His eyes fell upon the headache powder at his bedside table. Unused, as it would remain. He felt that familiar sting in his chest at the sight of it. He was left only with the empty feeling of her absence—unsure of how emptiness could feel so substantial. His chest tightened again at his own misery where he stood alone, his cock still in his hand, staring at the soiled floor.

“Pathetic,” he muttered at the thought of himself. He hadn’t even made it to the bed. That must be a new record. He would have to get that under control, should he ever get to spend a night with Elain.

He sighed deeply, turrning to look out the window across the room at the pitch-black tapestry that was the night sky. Just as the realization of his own misery had dawned on him, dawn would be emerging in a few hours, spreading soft pastels across the night sky. It reminded him of her—like everything seemed to do these days.

He thought of that dusty pink gown she often wore, the one that made her soft skin appear even softer. As if that were even possible. He wanted to rest his head against that softness and fall asleep.

Azriel had never yearned for arms to hold him. Not until Elain.

Something burned behind his eyelids. He knew it would crush him to dwell on it.

“Get a fucking grip,” he muttered to himself, even as his hand returned to once again grip his hardening length.

It would be a long night.

(I just want them to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Is that too much to ask? ���)

[shadowdaddies]

Hi can I request a nessian x male!reader, where he is deaf and mute. How they met, when did the bond snap, inner circle reactions, maybe they are lerning sign language, and some Cassian scarying him. Maybe also a bit of angst, where they have a little spicy time and he cant say stop or smh. I know its weird, and detailed, but I really want to see this and i know you are an amazing writer and i know you will write it the best🫶🫶

hi, thank you so much for this request! I enjoyed writing this, and I hope I did your idea justice💜

A/N: for anyone who wants to read this without the angst/safe-wording, I've put that part between sets of "***" so you can skip over it if needed

Everything to Me

Nessian x m!Reader

warnings: (this is fluff, smut, and angst) smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, anal sex, use of safe word

The icy Illyrian air whipped around you, nose and cheeks tinged red from the cold. You felt the new-fallen snow crunch beneath your boots, the chill in your lungs from the wind making you desperate to get back inside quickly.

Pulling back the panel of animal hide that served as the entrance, you ducked down and moved into the healers’ tent. Instant warmth seeped into your bones, muscles relaxing as you sighed with relief.

A motion in the corner caught your eye, gaze drifting to where another healer, Attia, smiled warmly at you. “I made some tea for you,” she signed, turning to pour steaming liquid from the kettle into a cup. 

She held it out for you, nodding politely when you signed a stiff “thank you,” before wrapping your hands around the warm drink. The heat from the vessel alone was enough to lift your spirits, bringing life back to your numb hands.

A small chill hit your back, and you followed Attia’s gaze to the entrance of the tent where two Illyrian males stood. You offered a grin to the one you recognized, hazel eyes meeting yours as he matched your greeting with a nod of his own.

Setting your cup to the side, you freed your hands to talk with him. “Azriel,” you greeted, “how are your wings?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” Az signed back, and only then did you realize who was standing in the tent slightly behind the shadowsinger. 

General Cassian looked on with interest as Azriel turned slightly towards him to speak, signing his words as he did so you could follow the conversation. “This is our new best healer. He is who repaired my wings last year.”

“...And this is Cassian,” Azriel continued as he turned to face you. Your eyes met the general’s, but his eyes did not fall to where you were moving your hands in communication.

Instead, the Lord of Bloodshed stumbled back slightly, his eyes going wide the moment you made eye contact. Sudden fear struck you, unsure of what you did to prompt Cassian’s reaction - but before you could amend the situation, he’d uttered some words to Azriel before disappearing into the cold.

Even the stoic shadowsinger’s eyes flickered with shock before he composed himself. “I am sorry about Cassian - it seems he had somewhere to be.” His gaze swept the room, noting the teapot on the table next to Attia. “Would you mind if I joined you both for some tea?”

You knew his friendliness was a distraction - in the time you’d known the spymaster, you’d learned that while he might be kind at heart, he was not friendly. Nonetheless, you nodded, joining him as you sat on a cushion and enjoyed the conversation.

~~~

Several days passed before a familiar face showed in the healers’ tent again, Cassian looking much calmer and more put together than you’d last seen him. A striking female stood next to him - his mate, Nesta, from what you had heard.

There was an air of curiosity about her, silver eyes boring into you as though she were looking for something that not even you could see. Chin raised in a queenly elegance, the female lifted her lips in a graceful smile.

“My name is Nesta. I believe you met my mate, Cassian, already,” she signed, movements a little slow but uncommonly graceful.

Nervously, you looked to the general, your pleasant surprise apparent when he gestured, “it is good to see you again. I am learning sign language.” It was clear he had rehearsed the motions, but you weren’t sure why he had put in the effort after meeting so briefly.

“It is good to see you, too,” you signed back - slower than usual - making sure to give a pleasant smile as you did so.

From then on, Nesta and Cassian would visit you often, joining you for lunch in between training sessions at the camps, practicing their sign language with you - they were kind and supportive, curious about you and your work as a healer. 

You quickly found the both of them to be an integral part of your life, waking up each morning excited to see them. Days were brighter, the newfound friendship filling a void within you that you hadn’t known existed.

It was unlike any other friendship, or even any other relationship that you’d had before. This connection was deeper, and you were pondering how that could be one night outside by the fire with Nesta and Cassian when it hit you.

As your eyes wandered to where their hands were joined, sipping ale while they watched the fire, you realized with a pang of jealousy that you wanted that as well. You wanted their touch, their love, to stop waiting until they visited to be able to see them.

As if sensing your thoughts, Nesta turned to look at you, silver eyes reflecting the flames from the crackling fire when you dropped your drink into the dirt, frothy ale spilling out on the ground.

As easily as the two people in front of you slid into your life like missing pieces, the puzzle was put together before you. Cassian’s shocked reaction when you first met, the pull that you felt towards him and Nesta - everything snapped into place when you felt that odd tug pulling at your rib.

Nesta and Cassian exchanged a glance before turning back towards you, gentle and cautious while they studied your reaction. 

A lump formed in your throat, hands twitching anxiously as the words escaped you, so you signed the only one that seemed to echo through your mind. “Mates?”

You felt your eyes well with emotion, tears threatening to spill over the corners when they both nodded. 

~~~

The same overwhelming feeling of love and contentment settled in your soul as the dying embers of the hearth brought you back to the memories of that night. Marking your place in the book you were reading, you turned your head to admire the painting Feyre had gifted you - a perfect recreation of your mating ceremony, with Cassian and Nesta seated on either side of you as you dined and celebrated with friends and family.

You noticed Nesta in the corner of your eye, your mate smiling brightly down at you. “What are you thinking?” she signed, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

The scent of fire and steel invaded your senses, her alluring aroma slightly darkened as you allowed your gaze to drag over the sight of her in her training leathers. “I am thinking how much I love you,” you signed, smirking at the flush across her cheeks, the way her chest began to rise and fall with more effort. “I’m thinking how I can’t believe I lived so long without you and Cassian,” your lips dragged slowly up her neck, sucking softly on her fluttering pulse before you pulled away. “I am thinking that I need you, now.”

Nesta’s throat bobbed as she signed hastily, “then take me.” 

You wasted no time, hands wrapping around her thighs as her arms wove around your neck, teeth and tongues clashing in a passionate kiss. Your knees hit the mattress, your cue to lay your mate down softly on the bed, her golden brown hair splayed out beneath her.

“You are beautiful,” you told her, dropping your hands to the ties of her pants while she helped you pull them off. Nesta slid backwards to the top of the bed, her head resting against the pillows, hands finding purchase in your hair as you kissed the soft skin of her thighs.

Prying her legs open, the scent of her arousal was intoxicating, removing any semblance of restraint you might have had. Diving into her core, you sucked on her clit, tongue flicking out against the sensitive bud. 

She writhed beneath you, sending your male pride surging as you felt the vibrations of her moans against your face and hands. You brought one finger to curl inside of her, pumping slowly as her slick grew before adding a second.

Keeping your mouth on her clit, you curled and twisted your fingers inside her warmth, biting back a grin as you sent her spiraling into an orgasm in no time. 

Pulling your fingers from Nesta’s pussy, you held them up in the light to let her see her release before bringing them to your lips and sucking. “Delicious,” you signed, cock twitching at the adorable blush on her cheeks at your filthy words.

The change in shadows and Nesta’s glance towards the door drew you from the moment, your eyes following hers to see Cassian standing in the doorframe. His hazel eyes were dark and wild, his own cock straining against his pants.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Nesta asked, back arching with a feline playfulness as she watched your other mate stride towards you.

“I did,” Cassian replied, his signing much more punctuated than Nesta’s satiated movements. “But it looks like you’ve yet to take care of our mate,” he nodded towards where your cock was leaking through your pants.

Nesta arched a dark brow at you, a sultry look on her face as she leaned forward, unbuttoning your shirt while pressing soft kisses to the newly exposed skin. You felt Cassian’s warmth behind you, sensed his movements as he undressed. 

They both helped you remove your pants, the three of you now bare and aching with desire. Cassian must have said something to Nesta, because she returned to her place at the head of the bed, kneeling there with her hair covering her full breasts. “Elbows and knees,” she directed to you, sucking in a breath as you obeyed with leisure, soaking in her expressions as you crawled between her legs, ass in the air for Cassian behind you.

Cassian’s strong hands settled firmly on your ass, working the flesh there as you felt a cold substance poured over your hole. One finger slid inside of you, then two, and your head fell into Nesta’s lap as Cassian worked you open.

Delicate fingers wove through your hair, teasing along the sensitive membrane of your wing in just the right place to leave your body shaking. Collapsing into the sheets, you buried your face once more in Nesta’s wet pussy, eating her out slowly this time as Cassian entered you from behind.

It was ecstasy, to be between your mates like this. You struggled to focus on Nesta, your technique growing sloppy the harder Cassian thrust inside of you. 

***

Suddenly, you felt Cassian’s hands wrap around your wrists, holding them together behind you to arch your back in a way that let him hit impossibly deeper. You could hardly breathe, the pleasure was too much, or so you thought. 

Cassian continued pounding into you, but you couldn’t breathe pressed against Nesta’s skin. You pulled away as best you could, head instead falling into the sheets at an uncomfortable angle. You could hardly think of anything except that you needed this to stop, needed a break, but you couldn’t sign to them.

As Cassian thrust into you again, fingertips found his wrists, and you dug a nail hard into the skin there, quickly making an attempt to sign “stop.”

All at once, everything stilled, and you felt Nesta move from beneath you to lay at your side, face level with your own. “Are you hurt?”

Shaking your head, you let your now-released hands fall to the mattress as Cassian slid out of you. You turned over so they could both see your hands, and still catching your breath, explained. “I am not hurt. I could not breathe well, and got scared when I couldn���t use my hands.” 

You noticed Cassian’s face crumble with guilt, the general falling back on his heels. Feeling his pain through the bond, you leaned forward, hands finding his cheeks as you pulled him in for a gentle kiss. 

“I am okay. This is just something we need to talk about in the future - a way for us all to still be able to communicate in bed.”

***

Cass’s gaze softened slightly, visible relief edging at his features. “You are sure you’re alright?” he pressed.

“I am sure. Now, will you please lay with me?” you asked, taking his hand and Nesta’s in each of yours as you guided them to join you under the covers. 

Nesta’s arms wound around your waist, her body curling into your side, one leg hiked across your own. You found Cassian’s hand, intertwining it with your own to press a kiss to the tough skin there. You smiled softly at the feeling of his long onyx hair brushing your neck, soft lips pressed to your cheek before you drifted off to sleep in your mates’ warm embrace.

[courtofblooming]

HOFAS BONUS CHAPTER !

Spoilers ahead ⚠️

Some points to be made, first of all, we see in the Bryce, Azriel and Nesta’s bonus chapter, all three characters getting to know each other a little bit better, also Nesta asking Bryce to play a song and Azriel humming and enjoying the music.

This scene is particularly interesting, because it’s clear that both Nesta and Azriel are protecting the other fae from Velaris, they say that the war that happened during ACOWAR was declared just on her and azriel. Which means they’re protecting the others, not giving up too much information about their personal lives.

In this scene Bryce asks both Nesta and Azriel about mates and Azriel is less than enthusiastic to answer about it, he’s avoiding the subject and being monosyllabic about it, which makes the “mates” topic very sensitive for him until now, despite the fact that’s been months since the solstice. (I see you elriel angst 😉)

Azriel also mentions his mother, saying she’s “anything but awful” are we getting Rosehall anytime soon?

This is definitely my favorite part, where Bryce puts on her favorite song, and describes it, how important the song was to her and how “it carried her from light into darkness and then back into the light” which is really interesting considering Azriel seems to really like the song.

Which makes a great parallel between the “Light and Dark” elriel scene in ACOWAR.

Later on, after she stopped playing the song, Azriel started humming in it, softly and to himself.

This brings me back to ACOMAF!

Where the book of breathings mentions “trembling fawn” along with “sing me”, and the order of the phrases really connect with feyre with “lady of the night” and then feysand with “love me”, then nesta with “princess of decay” and then nessian with “touch me” and finally elain with “trembling fawn” and elriel with “sing me” as we know azriel is a shadowsinger!

[throneofsapphics]

hi, i’ve recently found your page & i’m obsessed with your writing! i have a request, i’ve had this idea for a while now.

we’re in the court of nightmares, eris walks up to the high lord & lady and the inner circle to ask nesta to dance BUT he sees reader instead. either feysand or nessian gets jealous, but reader does dance with eris. feysand or nessian gets so jealous that eris and reader gets interpreted. reader gets a reminder who they belong too. reader would be mated with whatever couple you pick.

i would like angst, smut (maybe a little bit darker), jealousy, just do your thing girl 👀

thank you, i can’t wait to read more of your writing 🖤🖤🖤

a reminder 

Feysand x f!Reader 

Summary: She played her part perfectly, laughing and smiling at all of the right moments. The High Lady watched as Eris grew more and more smitten through the entire dance. Then - his hand drifted lower, squeezing tightly around her hip. Rhys moved before she could. 

Word Count: ~2k 

Warnings: smut, almost all smut, a bit of angst, light bondage, d/s dynamics, impact play, jealousy, possessiveness, i think thats it?, minors dni!!

A/N: ah thank you! and thank you for the request!! this was fun to write & I loved this idea, sorry it's not too heavy on the angst,

She’d rarely gone to the Court of Nightmares, only on a few occasions. She hated the cesspool, but when Feyre and Rhys asked her this time, she agreed. You’ve always been exceptionally skilled at reading people, and body language - even without being a Daemati, and sometimes it came in handy when dealing with those extensively trained against your mates powers. 

When the male they told her to keep an eye on, Eris, approached her, it was the perfect opportunity. 

-

Feyre watched in amusement as Eris approached the Dais. Every time he visited, he would always seek out Nesta for a dance. She agreed - and she had a feeling her sister only did it to spark some jealousy in Cassian. They always disappeared shortly after, coming back with slightly flushed cheeks. 

But, she watched as his eyes passed over Nesta - straight to y/n. They brought her here this time to try and get a read on Eris, without invading his mind outright. She didn’t notice his attention, scanning the room instead. Eris’s eyes gleamed as he approached her for a dance. Rhys went dangerously still next to her. Maybe it was a mistake disguising her scent, hiding the traces of them. 

Y/n agreed with a smile, taking his hand and following him to the dance floor. They did tell her to act as if she had no close relation to them … It’s what we told her to do, she spoke to Rhys. 

Not to dance with him, he growled. His bored mask was perfectly in place, but she felt the jealousy rolling through the bond. Her sentiment echoed his almost identically.  

She played her part perfectly, laughing and smiling at all of the right moments. The High Lady watched as Eris grew more and more smitten through the entire dance. Then - his hand drifted lower, squeezing tightly around her hip. Rhys moved before she could. 

-

She would admit Eris was a good dancer, and she was enjoying herself. Charming, funny, and trying a bit too hard. After the first dance, she’d gathered almost everything she needed to. Watching him for a bit longer, how he interacted with everyone else, would finish that up. But - he asked for another, and she felt rude turning him down. She forced her heartbeat and expression to remain steady as his hand drifted further down, right on her hip. Not obscenely low, but slightly suggestive. An invitation of sorts. Y/n knew this wouldn’t end well. 

“May I?” Rhys’s voice sounded, cutting in, so smoothly nothing seemed off to any outsiders. He cut a sharp look to Eris, one that would make most Fae shake immediately. To his credit, Eris only gave a polite nod and made himself scarce. 

Rhys’s hand tightened around her waist as he led her around the dance floor. Bruises would appear there tomorrow. He didn’t speak, but she could feel the anger, jealousy, and pure possession rolling through the bond, and immediately went on the defensive. 

I wasn’t- she tried to send down the bond. 

Not here. He replied sharply. She bit harshly on her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. Her mate’s eyes gleamed as he caught the motion. We’ll be cutting our visit short. 

I still need to - 

No. She bristled as he cut her off again. I’m certain you have enough. 

Y/n realized when she wouldn’t win a fight, and kept silent. 

You need a reminder of who you belong to, he purred into her mind, showing her a preview of what would be coming later. 

Arousal and fear flooded through her. A delicious but dangerous combination. Her heart started beating faster, tension coliling in her stomach … Rhys didn’t wait for the dance to end, he brought her back to the Dais, muttering a few instructions, and they left within minutes. 

-

“What the hell was that?” 

She was surprised Feyre raged at her first. 

“It - it’s what you told me to do.” She stood still, her eyes darting between the two of them. They were both pissed. But she couldn’t quite figure out why, she’d done exactly what they wanted to her. It’s not her fault Eris asked her for a dance. 

“You let him touch you.” 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I did no such thing, it was a dance, dance partners touch each other.” 

Her words seemed to roll right over them. “You belong to us, don’t you?” Rhys’s tone was mild, and she saw all of the warnings signs - the gleam in his eyes, the way he held himself, how his fist clenched slightly. 

Even as fear lanced through her, she ignored them. “Yes,” she did roll her eyes this time, and her filter completely disappeared. “It’s not my fault you wanted to hide my scent. You’re the ones keeping me like a secret, he never would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”

Rhys stalked over to her, every inch the predator. His fingers tilted her chin, “you need a reminder, don’t you darling?” 

“I-” 

Before she could answer, Feyre cut in, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Rhys. “I believe she does.”

Her hand trailed down her shoulder, catching her wrist in a vice-like grip, but she couldn’t look away from Rhys, not with his hand gripping her chin. 

“Do you think he could please you?” she cooed, and she knew exactly what game they were playing. 

Y/n shrugged casually, “I haven’t tried him.” She waited a few seconds, “but you never know unless -” 

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before Rhys’s arm wrapped around her waist, winnowing her to their bedroom. One thing she knows for certain about her mates, is they get very jealous, very easily. And that she usually loves the results of that jealousy. Feyre winnowed in a second later. 

“Scared?” Rhys asked as she took a few steps back. 

She was, but she wouldn’t admit that to him, and she shook her head. 

“Foolish,” he tutted, and her clothes disappeared. Waves of magic bound her arms behind her back, before forcing her to her knees. She hit the floor with a soft thud, the carpet dulling some of the impact. 

“Right where she belongs,” Feyre teased, circling around her. Her hands gently gripped her hair, tugging her head back to expose her neck. She struggled, trying to yank her head back, but the female’s grip was firm and unyielding. Still, she knew her safeword if she needed it. 

She crouched behind her, her other hand gripping her throat. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” She panted, and the small coil of arousal started building. 

“I don’t know what else I expected from you.” Feyre let out an edged chuckle, and left a deceptively gentle kiss under her ear. “Look at him.” 

Her eyes shot up, meeting Rhys’s - standing right above her with a smirk. Her body stiffened, she knows exactly what that expression means. “Stand up.” 

She swallowed and Feyre released her grip on her hair. She rose to her feet, and he merely pointed at the edge of the bed. Y/n didn’t move, and his eyes narrowed. She felt the tension growing in the room. She’s playing a dangerous game, walking a very thin line. 

“I won’t tell you again.” 

“You never said anything,” Y/n gave him a sweet smile and he snarled, shoving her towards the bed. The push knocked the air out of her, but she was left bent over the bed, hinging at the hips and leaving herself completely exposed. They’d be able to see just how wet she is. 

She feels Rhys’s body pressed over hers, his hands, gently brushing the hair away from her face as he kicks her legs further apart. He kisses the side of her neck, one hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her further into the mattress. “Remember Darling, you’ve earned his.” She shudders, having an idea of exactly what’s coming next. A silky rope replaces the magic tying her hands behind her back, winding tightly from her elbows to her wrist. 

Then, his hand slaps down on her ass. She whimpers, but the first one isn’t that bad, it’s more of a warning. 

She can tell Feyre is next, by the difference in size, and Feyre hadn’t been holding back - her body rocks against the bed. They don’t relent, each of them timing it perfectly until her ass and the backs of her thighs are burning, bright red. Tears stream down her face, leaving wet spots on the mattress below. 

Her leg kicks up involuntarily, and Feyre shoves it back down with a delighted chuckle. It’s almost too much, her word is on the tip of her tongue, but just as she’s hurling towards her limit, it stops. Rhys’s body folds over hers, his pants painfully brushing against the raw skin. Feyre’s knelt next to her on the bed, tugging her head up. Y/n thinks she might kiss her, let her taste the wine she can smell, the sweet scent of her, but she kisses the tears on her cheeks, her tongue darting out to lick one. The sign of her submission, of them breaking her down in a way only they can. She’s whimpering as they tug her further up the bed, Feyre’s legs spread, guiding her down towards her pussy. 

Gods, she loves the taste of her - sweet and musky at the same time, and doesn’t hesitate. She nips at the soft skin next to her thighs, dragging her tongue up between her folds. She wiggles at the bindings holding her back, but they don’t relent. 

Her hips are tugged up. A strangled mix between a sob and moan left her as Rhys pushes into her - giving her no time to adjust before he sets a brutal pace. 

Feyre presses into the back of her head, switching her focus, trying to put all of her attention on making her feel good. She alternates dragging her teeth over her clit, sucking, and giving small but firm kitten licks. All of the things she know will send Feyre over the edge. 

Another smack on the bare skin of her ass draws a moan out of her - and Feyre, the vibrations finally sending the High Lady over the edge. Y/n doesn’t stop, but slows to small licks, bringing her down from the high. 

Rhys’s hand snakes around to circle two fingers around her clit. She finds herself screaming, her head resting on Feyre’s thigh. 

The female ran her fingers through her hair, “so good now,” she murmurs, “taking him so well my love.” 

“A good little slut, just for us,” Rhys accentuates his words with another slap to her ass, squeezing her hips so tightly she knows she’ll bruise. 

It doesn’t take long before that coil in her stomach tightens, 

“Please, please please,” she chanted. 

“Please what?” Rhys asked, with a cruel tone. 

“F-finish, please let me cum,” 

“Do you think she’s earned it?” He asked Feyre, who’s still stroking her hair. 

She hums, “I think so.” 

“You’re too soft,” He growls, but increases his speed, tilting his hips to hit that perfect spot. 

She’s screaming - maybe their names, maybe to the Gods, she has no idea, but her body goes limp, Rhys still pounding until his cum fills her. 

He yanks her back by her hair, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush to his chest. She feels the burn of him against her raw skin and relishes in it. 

“Who do you belong to?” He nips at the space where her neck and shoulder meet. 

“You, Feyre, both of you,” She mumbles, barely coherent. It seems it was enough to please him, because he releases her into Feyre’s arms, letting her mate hold her, stroke her hair, murmur sweet things to her that fly in one ear and out the other. Rhys returns with a rag to clean her. She’s blissed out, her eyes glazed over, and a satisfied sleepiness is starting to take over her senses. Still, they take the time to quickly bathe and clean her before tucking her into bed between them. 

[fuckyesnessian]

Creator Highlight #3 - @kale-theteaqueen

Welcome back to Nessian Creator Highlights!! We want to take a moment to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use up so much of their freetime and creative energy to share their work with us!

Today we want to highlight @kale-theteaqueen

@kale-theteaqueen is one of those rare talents who manages to capture the nuances of Nesta's inner turmoil, her angst, her trauma. Her understanding and love make for compelling narratives centered, often, around healing arcs and empowering the voices of characters who are often forgotten and sidelined in favor of their sexier male counterparts.

And of course, it's never a true highlight without talking about how wonderfully kind @kale-theteaqueen has been to other members of our community. The critics have spoken, they all agree: she's one of the nicest nessians around! If you've ever wanted to get to know her, drop her a line and say hi!

Lady Death and Her Kingdom: When Amren pushes Nesta too far at training, she unlocks the full potential of her power, and with it comes devastating consequences. A post-ACOWAR AU in which Lady Death sees the dead, with chaotic results.

To Pay A Debt: When Nesta realizes Feyre has not included her in any of their family paintings, the sting of her exclusion is sharper than she could have ever imagined. Desperate to relieve Feyre and her new family of the burden that she was, she did the only thing she could think of: run. An alternate take after ACOFAS, in which Feyre not painting Nesta gets addressed, the Inner Circle gets a little bit of a reality check, and everyone kind of learns to communicate.

Burning From the Inside Out: Nesta had lived with pain all her life. She thought she knew how to keep it controlled, secret, afraid to burden her family even more with her inadequacy. Then, she was thrown into the Cauldron. Now, try as she might, the stolen fire that rages inside her only makes things worse, until she can no longer maintain the stone-faced mask that had gotten her through the first two decades of her life. When her truth comes to light, how will her family perceive her weakness? And more importantly, how will it affect an already tenuous relationship with a certain Illyrian? An AU in which Nesta has secretly lived with chronic pain her whole life, only to have it exacerbated by the powers she took from the Cauldron.

You can find more on her masterlist!

[lady-of-tearshed]

ok…hear me out, a fic where cassian has a kid (prob adopted or smth) that’s nonverbal bc trauma or disability reasons, and it kinda wears on cass so one night he’s like talking to rhys about how his kid isn’t normal, and the kid went to get some water but overhears the whole thing - just angst to comfort

love your writing btw💗💗

Beautifully different

Pairing: Nessian & Their kids (Oc!Briana & Oc!Zion)

Summary: Cassian has a lot of pent-up frustration and worries about his son, Zion, who is diagnosed with selective mutism. He slips up in front of Zion, and now he has to apologize and make it better.

Word count: 1368 words

Warnings: Disabled child (selective mutism), angst, miscommunication, a bit of swearing, allusion to Nessian conceiving another child.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

“It’s called selective mutism,”

Cassian could still remember the confusion and worry that had set in his head the day Madja had announced the diagnosis of his son, Zion. 

Cassian’s grip tightened around his mate’s shoulders, his jaw clenched with anger. “So he’s not talking on purpose?” 

“No,” Madja’s voice had softly reassured him and Nesta, whom was crying against Cassian's chest. “No, it’s not how it works. It’s a rare childhood anxiety disorder. It’s the brain response to a trigger that makes Zion unable to speak in certain situations or around certain people,”

He remembered how it made his stomach twist with guilt, how the sight of his mate crying in his chest at the hard news had brought tears to his own eyes. But Madja’s comforting hand on his shoulder had calmed him down, grounded him. Her voice had enveloped his heavy heart and soothed his ache like a soft salve. 

“It is not your fault, to any of you,” Her other hand gently rubbed circles on Nesta’s back, calming down her sobs with her reassuring words. “There are treatments to attempt to cure this, and things you could do to help Zion’s condition to go away,”

“We’ll try anything,”

Cassian was a bit late to pick up his kids from Feyre’s studio. Madja had deemed it helpful to sign up Zion on recreational activities with other children for him to interact with, so Cassian and his mate did. Of course, Briana, the perfect big sister that she was, had insisted that she absolutely needed to go too so she could hold Zion’s hand if he got too shy (but mostly because she absolutely adored her auntie Feyre, and she was overly excited to make some art with her.), so Cassian and Nesta had no choice but to agree. As if he would’ve ever denied anything to his little princess anyway… 

The doorbell rang when Cassian pushed the door open.

“DADDY!”

The tiny bundle of curly hair wrapped in pink chiffon jumped into his arms, and Cassian caught her up in his arms before twirling her around. He bit her chubby cheeks playfully, making Briana’s melodic giggle to fill the room. “Hello sweetie, I suppose you had a great day?”

“The bestest day ever!”

Cassian huffed a laugh before putting her down on the floor slowly. He lifted his eyes and scanned the room, searching behind every canvas where the paint decorating them was still fresh and shining. Finally, his eyes landed on the one exposed on the easel exposed in the farthest corner of the room, where Zion sat, absentmindedly applying the same shade of blue all over the white canva. 

Cassian had to hold back his cringe, and forced himself to not look at all the other kids' artworks and compare them to his son’s. Instead, he just caressed Briana’s hair. He crouched down to be face to face with her, and smiled.

“Hey, why don’t you go and play outside with your brother for a while? I need to talk with Auntie Feyre,” Briana opened her mouth to say something, but Cassian poked her nose and cut her off. “Alone.”

Briana sighed dramatically, pouting a little before taking her little brother’s hand and cheerfully dragged him along to the swings outside the studio. 

Cassian waited until he was sure that both of his kids were outside, playing, and not paying attention to him, then he made his way inside the studio. His ears led him to where water was running, and leaned in the doorway to where Feyre was cleaning a shit ton of paint brushes. Sometimes, the warrior wondered how she dealt with such messes weakly, for fun. 

A chuckle left his throat at the thought, and made Feyre’ face snap up from her task. A bright smile flashed over her red, blue, purple and yellow painted face. Feyre tried to wipe it away, noticing Cassian’s amusement glinting in his eyes, but her attempt very much failed, as it only resulted in spreading the paint all over her face even more. 

“Are you here solely to make fun of me, or to actually pick up your kids?”

Cassian chuckled, scratching the back of his neck while a flush of embarrassment creeped up his cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit late to pick up the kids I know… I was…” He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the mental image of how busy him and Nesta had been. “Busy.”

“Busy making more of those little ones?” 

Nosy woman. 

“How has it been for them today?”

“They’ve been good. Briana has made some progress on her painting today…” Feyre frowned, hesitating. Then she shrugged, avoiding the topic. “They’ve been good.”

“And Zion?” Cassian pushed, moving closer to where Feyre was washing the paint brushes. “Has he… made any progress? Did he make any friends?” 

Feyre left the brushes in the sink and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, he tried a different shade of blue on his canva today… He didn’t participate actively in the group today but…” She bit her lip and placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, “Maybe it’s normal, perhaps that’s just how he is you know… Maybe he’s happy like this-”

“Well I am not. A child needs to have social interactions to develop, Feyre. He’s not normal,” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel his face heat up, his breathing getting as heavy as the guilt resting on his soul. “Madja was wrong. That kid will never be normal. He’ll never be like the other kids,” 

Anger bubbled up within him. How was his son not normal, when his daughter was? “Where the fuck did I mess up-”

A thud that came from the other room cut off Cassian. Both Feyre and his face snapped to the door, where a tiny wing peaked out. 

Feyre’s face twitched and she patted Cassian on the shoulder. “I’ll wait outside with Briana… and I’ll make sure that the front door stays closed while you talk it out.” 

Feyre quickly made her way out of the studio, cheeks red from the embarrassing situation. She carefully avoided eye contact with Zion’s heart-broken face. 

Cassian only stayed in the middle of the supply room, staring at Zion’s tiny wing peeking out of the doorway. He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. “Zion…” 

Zion hesitantly moved from his hiding spot and slowly dragged his feet in front of his father. His head was kept so low that Cassian couldn’t even see his eyes from where he stood. He kneeled in front of his boy, his warm palm coming to cup his cheek. His thumb brushed off some tears staining Zion’s cheek, but he still avoided his father’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I…” 

Cassian’s throat tightened, cutting off any sounds when the silent room filled with Zion’s choked sobs. He brought his face to his chest, his own tears now falling on top of his son’s head. He held him tight against him, as if he was afraid that the boy’s heart would crumble if he’d let him go. “I’m sorry, Zion. So sorry…” Cassian whispered against the boy’s ear, his hand rubbing slow circles on his back. 

Zion sniffled, his face now tilted up to look into his father’s eyes with so much sadness.

“I said horrible things, I’m sorry. Every kid is different, I know. I just…” His voice broke. Cassian looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. He calmed his sobs down before taking control of his voice again. “I just want you to be happy, my son,” His eyes met Zion’s, the same shade of hazel eyes staring back at him. “But… I guess sometimes I need to remind myself that the definition of being happy for you isn’t the same as being happy for me,” 

Zion nodded, his little hands coming to wipe away Cassian’s tears, the same way he did for him. 

“Are you happy, Zion?” Cassian whispered, his face painted with concern. 

“You make me happy.”

And these were the most words Cassian had heard from his son, but the most beautiful ones anyone had said to him in all of his immortal life span.

Acotar taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover

Cassian taglist: @ladybookstan

[autumnshighlady]

This Is Me Trying

Cassian x Nesta

summary: It's been a few months since Nesta and Cassian have made things official, but things have only gotten worse for Nesta.

warnings: ANGST! slight inner circle slander, no happy ending, not super pro-Nessian

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this fic is based on 'This Is Me Trying' by Taylor Swift, also spot the Grey's Anatomy quote hehe. This fic is basically me working out my own relationship issues haha, so it was pretty emotional to write because I'm basically Nesta in this situation and it's rough. But I also truly think this is a more realistic version of Nessian than the one sjm tried to shove down out throats in ACOSF.

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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Nesta sighed as Cassian’s arm squeezed around her shoulders, squishing her farther into him than humanly possible. He belted out a laugh at whatever Mor had said, a deafening noise next to Nesta’s ear. His touch felt like acid on her skin, and all she wanted to do was get away from it.

Nesta had been trying her hardest to communicate her feelings with Cassian, she truly had. But it was hard – everything she said seemed to leave his brain the second he was around the Inner Circle, like they were now. Nesta was at one end of the couch with Cassian to her right, and Elain on Cassian’s left. Feyre was sitting on an armchair across from them with Nyx in her arms, in Rhys’s lap, while Mor and Amren were perched on cushions by the fireplace. Azriel was sitting a bit behind Rhys and Feyre on a stool, quietly observing the scene. A couple hours ago, Nesta had pulled Cassian aside and explained that she was having an overwhelming day, and requested he not touch her for the night. She couldn’t explain why she felt that way – she tried, and nothing came out. All she wanted was some physical space from Cassian’s presence. The male had sworn he understood, and said he would give her space.

That had lasted all of 20 minutes into the evening before he slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her body into his. He had failed to notice how Nesta froze, rather than relaxing into his touch as usual. She knew it wasn’t malicious, that he wasn’t deliberately ignoring her request. He had just simply… forgot. 

And this wasn’t the first time she felt suffocated and trapped by Cassian. Guilt plagued her, knowing he truly didn’t mean to do it, he was just trying to show his affection. For a while, Nesta thought that the Cauldron had mated them under the premise of opposites attract. Cassian was extroverted and wore his heart on his sleeve, easily making friends and jumping into any conversation or group. Nesta was an introvert, preferring to mask everything she felt, both good and bad. She did not have that confident ease about her, nor did she feel inclined to befriend everyone she met or chat their ear off. She was perfectly content to be more like Azriel, sitting and observing rather than participating. 

But maybe there was such a thing as people being too opposite for it to work out.

Nesta had felt like she was drowning in the Cauldron all over again, slowly being backed into a corner and suffocating under Cassian’s constant presence and need for her attention. Now that they were officially together, he was everywhere. Cassian had lightened his duties in Illyria to spend more time with Nesta, which only made it worse. At first she had found it sweet, but as the weeks passed it became more irritating.

Cassian was supposed to love her. Surely, someone who loved her would be able to understand her enough to know that this wasn’t what she wanted? He was always trying to find different things to do with Nesta, and it was beginning to get overwhelming. It hurt her heart to see how enthusiastic he was, how badly he wanted to make her happy. She was disgusted with herself for not feeling the same, for wanting to fight and pull away.

Her youngest sister’s voice brought her attention back. “Do you have anything to add, Nesta?”

Nesta blinked, not having heard a word of what was said. “To what?”

Feyre sighed. “We were just talking about building another home for me, Rhys, and Nyx in the mountains, since you and Cassian basically live at the House of Wind now. What do you think?”

The room was tense, everyone frozen as they awaited Nesta’s reply. If she was in a better mood, she would have chuckled inwardly. No matter what she did, no matter how many times she proved herself to them, the Inner Circle would always see her as a rabid monster waiting for a chance to lash out. Perhaps if it were another day she’d entertain them, just to show that she hadn’t lost her bite. But she had no energy today. “Sounds like a great idea.” She said simply.

Everyone visibly relaxed, relieved that Nesta hadn’t made a snide comment about how many houses Feyre and Rhys had, even though she wanted to. Cassian patted her arm proudly, as if to say look how much more docile and well-mannered she is now, thanks to me. Realistically, Nesta knew that wasn’t actually what he was thinking, but it sure felt like it. Only Feyre gave her a strange look, as if she could sense something wrong. 

“So, Nesta,” Rhys said smoothly. “Cassian tells me you’ve gotten pretty good in the sparring ring.”

Nesta’s mouth was dry, the hot air from the room closing in on her. “I’ve improved, yes.” She managed a reply, earning another squeeze from Cassian that tightened her throat even more.

She hadn’t wanted to be touched at all tonight, yet he was doing it anyway without even thinking.

“It’s been a while since I’ve practiced, you could probably give me a run for my money.” The High Lord chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

Again, everyone anxiously waited for Nesta to challenge him, to cause a scene and ruin the evening for the group. It made her feel physically sick, how she felt like she was drowning all over again and not only had Cassian not noticed, but the Inner Circle seemed to like her better this way – a shell of the female she was before, a quieter version.

“I think Rhys is challenging you, sweetheart.” Cassian chuckled. “Go on, go kick his sorry ass.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Nesta said quietly, but it was too late. Mor and Amren had stood up, moving over to where Azriel sat in the back to clear the space on the large rug by the fireplace. Feyre had climbed off Rhys’s lap, too, taking Nyx with her and handing her to Elain as she joined everyone over by Azriel. 

Rhys down the rest of his wine and stood up, pushing his chair back and wiping invisible dust off his sleeves. “Come on, Nesta. Show me what you got.”

The room began to close in on Nesta even more, the air stifling and catching in her throat like sandpaper.

“It’s fine, really.” Nesta insisted, but was interrupted by Cassian gently shoving her to her feet.

“My girl is gonna make you eat dirt, brother.” Cassian said as he pushed Nesta up onto her unsteady feet.

More cheers from the females by Azriel began to sound up, all urging Nesta to show off her skills. It should have felt endearing, and she should have felt more excited at the opportunity to punch her annoying brother-in-law in his face. But all she could feel was suffocation, like she was back in front of her mother’s cruel gaze being forced to perform for people that did not care for her. An object, a plaything to be used to entertain others then put back in its box when they were done with her.

“No.” Nesta’s voice was barely above a whisper, unheard amongst the loud cheers.

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta!” Feyre and Elain chanted from the background, egging her on. But she was frozen, arms slack at her sides.

“Come on, Nes!” Cassian barked playfully. “You’re acting like I haven’t taught you anything. Come on, do it for me–”

“I said NO.” Nesta snapped, her sharp voice silencing the room as she whirled around to face Cassian. He stared at her, eyes wide with shock.

“It’s all in good fun,” He said, brows furrowed in confusion. “He won’t actually hurt you. Besides, when else are you going to get the chance to–”

Nesta cut him off, her anger bubbling over the surface like a volcano that had waited centuries to finally erupt. “What part of the word ‘no’ suddenly means ‘convince me’?” She demanded.

Nobody said a word. Disappointment was written all over Cassian’s face. Amren snorted in the background, her whisper pointedly loud as she said, “I guess some people will never change, even after being spat out by the Cauldron.”

Tears burned in Nesta’s eyes, but she refused to let them see. Wordlessly, she stormed past everyone, making her way to the door of the river house. She hadn’t even made three steps out into the street before it opened up again behind her, heavy footsteps crunching in the snow.

“What the fuck, Nesta?” Cassian demanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. 

“Let go of me.” She spat, trying to rip her arm from his grip. But he only held on tighter.

“We were having fun, what’s wrong with you?”

“Cassian, let go of my arm right fucking NOW.”

The male glared at her, but obliged. Nesta yanked her arm back to her side, rubbing the now sore area. Annoyance seeped from the male as he ran a hand through his hair. “The night was going well,” He grumbled. “It was all going well until you made a scene. For once in your life, Nesta, can’t you just try?”

“This IS me trying!” Nesta shouted, his words stabbing her harder than any knife could. After everything she had opened up to Cassian about, how could he not see that she was trying her best? That she was trying to make him happy by going along with his obscure date ideas, putting on a happy face being dragged to dinner with the Inner Circle even though they basically locked her up after the war? 

“Well you’re not trying hard enough!” Cassian’s words hit her like a truck. The tears she had been fighting to keep back began to stream down her cheeks like icicles in the frozen wind. “Fuck, I’ve tried to hard to convince my family to give you a chance after how you treated them. I’ve gone out out of my way to make you happy, and this is what you fucking do? We all try so hard for you, and you won’t try at all.”

Nesta couldn’t stop herself from flinching at his words. Her brain screamed at her to yell back at Cassian, to bring out those claws she spent the last few months trying to rid herself of. But she couldn’t. She was exhausted, tired of pretending to be as happy as Cassian was. It sucked the life out of her, chipping at her away piece by piece until she felt empty inside. Her old self would be ashamed of how submissive she had become.

Cassian sighed, rubbing his face, and taking a step towards Nesta. He held his hands out to hold her. “Nesta, I’m so sorry–”

He stopped speaking when Nesta took a step back, shying from his touch. His hazel eyes were filled with hurt and confusion, and she sighed. “Cassian,” She said slowly. “Did you not remember how I asked you not to touch me tonight?” 

The Illyrian’s brow furrowed in confusion, then softened as the realization dawned on him. “Is that what this is about?”

Nesta sighed, another tear rolling down her cheek. “Not just that–”

He interrupted her. “I completely forgot, Nes I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to. You should have remembered to respect my basic wishes. You don’t listen to me, Cassian. You hear me, but you don’t listen.”

Cassian sat down on the steps by the door, wings drooping in sadness. But she felt no pity for him, only anger. He was the one who didn’t listen to her when she asked not to be touched, who ignored her when she protested sparring with Rhys, but he was somehow the victim too? It made her blood sing with anger. “I tell you not to touch me because I’m having a bad day, and you pull me into your lap like a dog,” She continued icily. “I tell you I don’t want to do something, and instead of respecting that, you try to force me to do it for everyone’s entertainment. You know damn well that Rhys has never liked me, and how he meant it when he threatened to kill me a few months ago. And yet you pushed me to try and fight him anyways.”

Cassian stared at the frozen ground. Nesta could practically feel his confusion, a raging sea of emotions written all over his face. The wind blew his hair into his face, a sight that Nesta would have found beautiful once. But now it only filled her with sadness. She had bent herself backwards trying to become ‘worthy’ of Cassian in his and his family’s eyes, cursing herself alone at night and thinking she was the problem. Cassian was an objectively good male – loving, affectionate, good in the bedroom. Any female would be lucky to have him, so why wasn’t Nesta happy?

The answer had been deep down inside her, trying to claw its way to the surface, begging for Nesta to acknowledge it. And then it washed over her one day – everyone was quick to assume that she was the one at fault in the relationship, not Cassian. And somewhere along the way, she had convinced herself of that too, pushing down her gut feelings for the sake of trying to make it work with the general. She knew that her words shot to kill when she was mad, and she often couldn’t stop them no matter how much regret they filled her with. But when Cassian had come along, she learned to hold her tongue, to push back those claws inside her. The issue was that in the process of doing so, Nesta had begun holding her tongue more often than needed, bearing the facade of a female submitting to her mate just like everyone wanted. 

Nesta had finally been de-clawed, Cassian wearing her talons around his neck like a trophy. She felt like an open wound at every party, her former self slowly oozing out of the gaps in flesh Cassian had clawed from her. And the worst part was, everyone liked her better this way. But she felt the opposite of better, she felt suffocated and empty.

“I understand you are trying to push me out of my comfort zone,” Nesta continued through tears, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. “And I appreciate it because sometimes that is needed. But you’ve pushed too hard, Cassian.”

“I only wanted what was best for you.” Cassian said dully.

She scoffed. “And how would you know what’s best for me when you never asked me? What, you just assume because we’re together you have some sort of decision-making capacity over me? That you have any idea what’s going through my head, what I’m feeling, or even what I want?”

Cassian stood up, taking a step towards Nesta. She stepped back again, wanting to keep the space between them and not caring about the hurt that flashed across Cassian’s face. “I know you, Nes.” He said softly. “And I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” The wet spots on her cheeks began to freeze over in the cold wind. “You love the idea of me. You love being with me, having me by your side. But you don’t truly know me, Cassian. And you don’t truly love me. You just think you do.”

The hurt swimming in Cassian’s eyes churned into anger. “You’re kidding, right? So you mean the past five months we’ve spent together have been nothing? That I truly didn’t get to know you at all in that time?”

“You’re 500 years older than me, Cassian. Five months is a blink of an eye in your lifetime. So no, you didn’t truly get to know me in that time.”

Cassian scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. But Nesta continued. “The only reason you think you got to know me was because others forced us into each other’s proximity. I did not come to spend time with you on my own free will. And I was isolated from everyone and everything, except for you. In that time, Cassian you… you took something from me. You took little pieces of me - little pieces over time, so small I didn't even notice. You wanted me to be something I wasn't, and I made myself into what you wanted. And I let you, because I thought I could make you happy that way. But it will never happen again. I am done changing who I am to make myself ‘worthy’ of you.”

Nesta turned around, not waiting to hear his response as she strode down the snow covered cobblestone. There was no towering presence following after her, much to her relief. She did not go back to the River House, or in the direction of the House of Wind. Truthfully, Nesta had no clue where she was going, only that she was done letting herself fall apart to please people who would never love her for who she truly is.

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine- Chapter 8

Summary: Unexpected visitors cause your night to go astray. Luckily Mor is there to help anchor you.

Pairings: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Current!Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Angst, men being disgusting foul little things, blood, weapons, swearing, wounds, passing out, vomit, bones breaking, child abuse from parent and death. Just please tread lightly if you are squeamish or uncomfortable with any of the above topics.

Word count: 3233

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

It seemed that all the eventful experiences of the day were not in fact over. Because when you got home that night you paused dead in your tracks and stared widely at the forms waiting for you. Out of everyone you’d expected to be at your door it definitely wasn’t Azriel and Rhysand. You stared at them in shock and Rhysand tried to give you his best calming smile while Azriel didn’t even try to look less intimidating. 

“Oh, hello, I wasn’t expecting company today.” They were blocking your door and didn’t seem like they were going to move until your keys rattled. Rhysand stepped aside and Azriel tucked his wings in as you approached, you made quick work of the door before ushering them inside. You groaned as you realized you hadn’t cleaned up your apartment in a couple days. You hadn’t thought you’d need to since Mor was the only one that ever came over and she didn’t mind a bit of clutter. 

“I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t-” Your words were cut off by Rhysand. 

“Expecting company.” Nerves were working through you at a fast pace. You had a feeling that this wasn’t a friendly visit. Especially with the way Azriel seemed a little on edge. 

“Is this about Devlon?” You chewed on your lower lip so hard you started to taste blood before releasing it. 

“I’ve been gathering information on him and the males in ironcrest. I’m just wanting to iron out a few details with you.” Azriel’s voice surprised you as you realized this was the first time you’ve heard it. 

“Would either of you like tea or anything?” You stood awkwardly in the doorway to your kitchen that was just next to your front door. They both shook their head and you lead them towards your dining room table. You were thankful for the bench that lined one side of the table as Azriel was able to comfortably sit without his wings being in the way. 

“What would you like to know?” Azriel shot off a list of names in reply and had you confirm or deny their involvement. But you hadn’t known any of their names so that didn’t help at all. 

“We could try something different instead. If you’re comfortable with it of course.” You eyed Rhysand curiously already suspecting you wouldn’t like the words about to leave his mouth. 

“I could look at the memory and we could narrow down who they are that way.” A large wave of nausea took over you at the thought of reliving the experience that had scarred you not only physically but mentally and emotionally as well. 

“Does it have to be tonight?” You hadn’t realized you were picking at your nails until you pulled on a especially tender spot and you dropped your hands into your lap. 

“The sooner the better. I’m afraid that if they get wind of me digging around they might flee or try to hide any evidence of their activities.” Azriel’s voice shook you once again. Though from the stories you’ve heard of him you doubted anyone would figure out what he was up to. Unless of course he wanted them too. Rhysand seemed to take pity in the way you shook as he placed a calming hand on your arm from his spot next to you.

“Would you like me to request Mor join us?” You nodded your head quickly at his question, you knew her presence would help you undoubtedly. His eyes glazed over for a moment and after waiting with baited breath he came back. He didn’t even have to tell you what she said as she appeared in the space behind Rhysand. 

“I’m scared.” You whispered to her as she pulled a chair next to yours. She grabbed your hand that was closest to her and intertwined her fingers with yours. 

“I know but I’ll be here the whole time. Then we can go to bed afterwards.” She dragged the smooth skin of her thumb along the smooth skin of the back of your hand soothingly. You nodded your head at her before turning back to Rhysand, who was eyeing you and his cousin curiously. 

“I’m ready.” Somehow your voice came out steady and your hands didn’t shake. But nausea was something you couldn’t push away. This would be the first and the only time you showed it to someone else. 

“Would it be alright for me to share the memory with Azriel and Mor as you share it with me?” You nodded your head at him and began chewing on your lip again. Your eyes fluttered closed and then squeezed tight. Rhysand began to claw at your mind and you let out him enter as a shaky breath left your mouth. Once he found the memory you were whisked into it. 

When you had awoken that morning you groaned in pain. Your stomach and back felt like it was on fire and being stabbed all at once. You sat up with a wince and that’s when you noticed the wet feeling between your legs. You lifted the blanket up and stared at the blood that pooled between your legs. Panic set through you like water breaking through a damn. 

You weren’t exactly sure what was happening to you. But you knew that if your father found out that he’d find some way to punish you. So you got out of your bed and stood on shaky legs. There were chores that you needed to complete before Devlon came home. Even though you felt an ache and a sweat all over your body you couldn’t leave the chores unfinished. 

Your legs barely held you up as you exited your cramped room and made your way to the bathroom. You bunched up a small towel in your underwear to hopefully hold the blood that still steadily poured out of you. The rough feeling of the walls dug into your hand as you caught yourself from falling down the stairs when a particularly sharp jab spiked in your side. Your wings unused twitched open and closed behind you. After two large glasses of water to hold down the nausea and a mug of tea, with a bowl of oatmeal you finally started on your chores. 

Even though your father had a wife she did nothing to help you. Instead she would sit around most of the day and complain. She would complain about anything she could think of. Most of the time though it was you she’d complain about. Then there were some days where she would stay in her room and wouldn’t leave until your father came home. That left all the chores for you. It had become a routine at this point though. Wake up, eat breakfast, make your fathers bed, do the dishes, do the laundry, dust, sweep, mop, take care of the trash and then have dinner on the table by the time he comes home. 

You had just got done making dinner when your father came into the small house. The cramps had lessened as you worked around the house so you were going to bathe and wash the towels you had gone through while he ate dinner. But he called out to you when your foot met the second step of the stairs. You turned around nervously and you saw him take a deep breath. Then there was nothing but fury within his eyes. 

“Your first bleeding. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Your whole body went on high alert as you looked at him. He was all but shaking with rage. The words wouldn’t leave your throat as fear settled within every nook of your body. 

“Answer me now.” He was baring his teeth at you, wings spreading out and chest puffing up. You shrank into yourself slowly under his gaze.

“It happened this morning, I didn’t know what was wrong. I am sorry.” You took the one step down and knelt before him. Wings sagging behind you and eyes gazing at the floor. You weren’t lying when you told him you had no idea what was happening. You had never been told of a first bleeding before. 

“You’re absolutely useless to me now. Go up to your room until I get you.” You hadn’t been prepared to be sent to your room. You’d normally receive your punishment immediately. It was typically a whipping with his belt or a couple of well placed kicks and punches to your body. 

You felt your breakfast from the morning coming up your throat as you stood and stalked up the stairs. Once you sat on your bed you stared at your wall for what felt like days but was really only a couple of hours. 

The trance you were in was broken as you heard your name being called through the house. You made quick work of going down the stairs and you went to kneel before your father again but he stopped you. The bile that you had finally choked down earlier threatened to come back up as he glared at you. He started walking towards the door and you stood in your place.

“Let’s go.” You hesitated at his words because you had never been allowed outside. From the day you were born all you had was the walls and rooms of your house. 

“I said let’s fucking go.” He stalked over to you and grabbed your hair roughly dragging you behind him. Your wings scraped against the floor as your legs stumbled beneath you to keep up right. The sharp chill of the breeze outside pierced the thin dress you wore and you hissed. You brought your hands up to your arms trying to rub heat into them. The snow seeped into the thin flats on your feet and chilled your toes instantly. 

You looked around and took in the sights of the camp you had only ever gazed upon from the windows in your house. No one was outside and that had you on edge even more than you already were. There was normally a slew of males drinking and rough housing at all hours. But right now it seemed everyone was inside. The wings on your back were twitching in agony at the sharp pricks of cold snapping at them. 

There was no sound to be heard other than your laboring breath and the curses from the male dragging you. The reality of the situation you were in finally set in as he dragged you closer to the trees. He pulled you through the foliage not doing anything to protect you against the lashing of the branches and leaves on your skin. You screamed as you hit a root in the ground and twisted your ankle, a loud crack ringing out through the silent night.

When you entered a clearing you noticed three males standing there. They all had wings but you didn’t recognize them as any of the males you had seen from the windows of your house. They didn’t even flinch at the way you were thrown to the ground before them. Your father spat at you as you cradled the wrist that had tried to catch you from your fall. 

“Do whatever you want to her. I don’t ever want to see her again.” His voice was pure venom as he directed the statement at the males. Before he promptly turned around and left the clearing.

Your eyes were wide and you pleaded with the males in front of you but they only laughed before one of them went to snatch you up. But you backed away from them as best you could with your injured leg and arm. That earned you a punch that went straight to your nose and cracked the bone efficiently. Blood sprayed out across your face and the ground and your head spun at the pain. 

You didn’t see the other one come up behind you. An arm wrapped around your neck and you clawed at the material of the shirt while you fought for your oxygen. He only squeezed harder even as your nails finally shredded his shirt and made contact with his skin. He brought you up and the tips of your now bare feet grazed the snow covered ground. Your vision blurred and you tried to let out a final plea but you couldn’t get a word out. The ache in your chest ebbed into a buzz throughout your body as your lungs continued to struggle. The last thing you heard before you passed out was the one that hadn’t approached you yet saying how much fun he was going to have with you. 

When you woke up, you gagged at the taste of blood in your mouth. You tried to open your eyes but they didn’t want to cooperate. It took you several more tries before they finally cracked open. You realized through the slits in your eyes that they were swollen. The dark room around you didn’t give you any clues as to where you were. But the laughing beyond the door gave you an idea. 

A loud scream ripped through your throat as you tried to stand. You looked down at your ankles and realized they were both shackled and the right one was swollen, bruised and had an odd angle to it. You tried to bring a hand down to your swollen ankle but noticed that they were also shackled and that your left wrist was in just about as poor condition as your ankle was. Your scream seemed to have garnered the attention of the Illyrians because the door was slamming open and light was flooding in. 

“Oh good, the bitch is awake.” You didn’t know where the voice was coming from as you squeezed your eyes shut. The light entering the room caused a sharp pain to throb through your head. 

“Now for that fun I talked about earlier.” You assumed he had a set of keys in his hand as you heard the sound of metal clanging together. Your suspicions were confirmed as you felt the shackles being unlocked from the floor. Two of them grabbed you under your armpits and started to drag you out to where they came from. You cracked your eyes open despite the light and tried to ignore the way the shackles pulled on your mangled wrist and ankle. 

The large table in the center of the room and the weapons lining the walls had you getting sick. The vomit mixed with the blood in your mouth and on your face and clothes as it came out of you. You heard one of the males next to you curse before a sharp pain radiated through your side. You glanced down and noticed there was a knife sticking out of your side. 

“Let’s get this done with. She’s fucking disgusting.” You figured you were even though you couldn’t see yourself. You knew there was blood and now vomit covering your face and clothes. You could feel blood pooling between your legs and down them. Your skin had tiny cuts and dirt and what not from being dragged through the forest and you were bruised in various places. 

“Get her on the table.” You tried once again to pull away from them but they only gripped you harder and the male that stabbed you twisted the knife. They picked you up and laid you face down on the table. Your nose smacked against the rough surface and you were sure they had broken it again. 

“What are you going to do?” Your question fell on deaf ears as they locked you down by your shackles and moved around the room. They all seemed perfectly in sync as they skirted around each other and handed each other different objects.

“Hold the half breed down. I’m gonna get started on the first one.” Your wings twitched at the words. Like they knew what was happening before you did. Pain shot through you with a vengeance as the first deep cut was made to your wing. You tried to push away the pain and fight but with the second deep cut you were succumbing to the black spots in your already hazy vision. 

The next time you opened your eyes you were numb. Every last part of you no longer feeling. You couldn’t feel the nasty cuts in your back were now laying bare on the dirty ground below you from where your wings were cut off. You couldn’t feel the snow seeping into your skin, the broken bones from earlier weren’t even a thought either as you stared up at the sun above you. A slow and cynical laugh left your lips as you realized this was the first time you had ever felt the sun on your skin. Because you couldn’t even feel the heat from it. 

A sound rang out somewhere near you but you couldn’t make it out as your ears rang. You hadn’t even noticed the blood that now poured down the sides of your neck and mixed in with your hair. Your eyes were still slits from the swelling when someone came and blocked the sun from your view. You blinked once and then twice, slowly as you tried to make out who was there. 

You watched their mouth move but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They came toward you and you couldn’t find it within you to fight them. Even when their wings finally came into view from where they stood tall and proud behind them. They knelt down beside you and hauled you into their arms. You didn’t feel any pain as they jostled you to adjust you better trying to avoid hitting the knife still lodged in your side. 

As you finally took in their face you realized it was a gorgeous female. You had never seen anyone as pretty as her, you decided. A small smile grazed your lips and you hoped this angel of death understood you were grateful for them before your eyes fluttered closed and you slipped into the darkness that had been fighting to consume you. 

A sob left your lips as you came back to your kitchen table. The males around the table looked at you in surprise and you shrunk into yourself but Mor was quick in standing up and gathering you into her arms, your legs wrapping around her middle. She smoothed a hand over your hair and laid a kiss on your forehead before whispering to her cousin and Azriel. You couldn’t understand what she was saying as your head was buried into her neck. 

She carried you to your room and laid you on your bed. You didn’t hear a door close but you felt a ripple of power through your apartment and figured that Rhysand must’ve winnowed away as Azriel slipped through his shadows. Mor carefully got you out of your day clothes and slipped you into a pair of sleep pants and a sleep shirt. She laid beside you once she was in similar attire and let you curl into her. She ran a hand up and down your back until you fell asleep with tear tracks down your face. Before you slipped into slumber you had uttered a sentence that rattled her bones. 

“I want the killing blows.”

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed getting insight into readers past. There will be more Nesta and Cassian in the next part. Thank you all for reading and as always likes, comments, reblogs and follows are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels @littlebbb @cat-or-kitten @brandywineeeee

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {19}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Two more chapters! Thank you all for sticking along for the journey. Enjoy!

The weeks have passed by quickly and in less than twenty four hours I’ll be standing at the altar with my husband, renewing our vows.

Throwing a ceremony together so quickly has been exhausting, especially considering my book released last week, but I’ve actually enjoyed the chaos. My sisters have helped tremendously, even in the moments that I’ve insisted that I didn’t need their help. Nonetheless, tomorrow's success will go to them. We’ve all worked hard as hell, which is why the three of us are currently dressed in our finest and sitting on the rooftop of one of Velaris’ most prestigious restaurants. 

While Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand are surely at some shithole bar, the three of us decided on a little class in celebration of tomorrow.

As the server fills our glasses and leaves the remainder of the bottle of wine in an ice-filled chiller, Feyre raises her glass in a salute. “I know toasts usually come at the end of the night, but we’ve never been the most conventional bunch. Nes, you and Cassian have been the pillar of strength for our group for so long. When shit gets hard, the two of you are the ones to step up and handle it. Your marriage is no different. Things may have gotten rough for a bit—” I roll my eyes at her understatement, but can’t pull the smile from my lips if I try. “But you didn’t let that break the two of you, you didn’t let that tear you apart like so many others would have. You never gave up on your love, on each other, and I’m so glad we get to celebrate that tomorrow.”

I clear my throat to push away the flood of emotion and we clink our glasses together. “Thank you. But the real toast should be for the two of you because if I had to plan this damn thing alone, I would have died.”

They laugh but it’s no joke.

I think it may have killed me.

Although tonight is supposed to be all fun and games, we go over our checklist one last time. We’ll have to get to the venue early tomorrow and finish decorating, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” I ask, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass. “I mean, we’re already married, but this feels different.”

“I don’t think it's weird,” Elain says, cheeks already pink from the wine. “I think it’s nice. It just means that it means a lot to you.”

“I bet Cass is just as nervous,” Feyre says, chiming in. “And just wait until he sees you in your dress. I’ve never seen anything so sexy and elegant in my life.”

I grin. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been dreaming about Cassian's reaction when he sees the dress I bought. “Having to make it through the entire ceremony and reception is going to be torture for him, and I can’t wait.”

“Sadist,” Feyre mumbles, and Elain chokes on her last drop of wine.

She’s not wrong. The sheath of lace fits me like a second skin, the only ornamentation the occasional pattern of intricate beading and the sweetheart neckline dips just low enough to be alluring without being obscene. The lingerie I’ll be wearing beneath it is another story entirely.

Reaching for the bottle, I refill each of our glasses, setting it down at the edge of the table when it’s empty. “Listen, if he isn’t feral by the time we get home, something has gone horribly wrong.”

Home, because we aren’t going on a second honeymoon. We aren’t taking a trip or going anywhere, that’s not what this renewal was about. Sure, we’re having the ceremony and the party afterwards, but it’s to celebrate us.

Home, because there’s nowhere else we’d rather go and no one else we’d rather be with.

The food is earth shattering. By the time we’re done eating, I’m so full that I can hardly move. Cassian will be jealous that I ate so luxuriously without him, but it was too delicious for me to care. I feel a slight buzz from the wine, but nothing too daunting. I feel carefree and completely excited. 

With our empty plates in front of us, Elain asks, “Any news on the adoption front? You haven’t mentioned it in a couple of weeks.”

“We have a meeting with an agency set up for next week, actually,” I say, almost hesitantly, which earns two sets of worried glances in my direction. I shake my head. “I just kinda wanted to see how it went before mentioning it, I guess. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

Mine included. I have learned through my struggles with infertility that nothing is to be expected.

Elain reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We only want to be there for you. We’re here with you both on this journey, Nesta.”

Knowing that was the point of telling our family about our past struggles, I nod. “I know, and we've been talking a lot about it for the last couple of weeks, Cass and I. I’m getting…excited.”

The agency we’ve been in touch with works mostly with young, unwed mothers in Velaris who aren’t ready for a child. They know that there are loving families, like us, who would do anything to find that missing piece and they help connect the mothers and families. There’s no guarantee we’d meet the mother, as some women opt for closed adoptions, but we don’t care either way.

We haven’t even been approved to work with the agency yet, so I try not to get ahead of myself.

“We’re meeting with them at their office and if that goes well, we’ll have a home visit a few days after that.”

“A home visit?” Feyre asks, eyebrows rising. “That seems a bit quick.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be,” I reply, swirling the wine in my glass. “This is to see if we even get accepted into the program. I’m sure there are going to be plenty of things we run into in this process that are frustrating, but it’s all going to be worth it in the end.”

“I think it’s beautiful that you want to adopt,” Elain says, eyes misty once again from those mom-of-infant hormones. 

We leave soon after and take a walk around the city before I’m back in my car, driving home. I love spending time with my sisters and I’m thankful for all that they’ve done, but I can’t wait to get home, can’t wait to get in bed. The sooner I’m home, the sooner I’m asleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here. 

Once I’m home, the house is dark and quiet. Greg is sprawled out on the couch and hardly stirs as I pass him to head upstairs. I’m not sure what time Cassian will be home but hopefully it isn’t too late. If he’s drinking, which I have no doubt he is, he needs time to sleep it off before the morning.

We’re not twenty-one anymore.

I sneak a peek in my office where my dress is hanging on full display so that the wrinkles are all out. Cass has been banned from this room and he’s done very good at avoiding it like the plague. He won’t be seeing me in this beauty until tomorrow. 

After I shower, I throw on one of my favorite t-shirts, one of Cassian’s, and brush my teeth and hair before sinking into bed. I just open my newest read when the front door opens and closes. It’s not long after when I hear a bang, clatter, Greg’s pissed off noise, and Cassian’s string of filthiest curses.

Maybe I should’ve left a light on.

I hear noises from the kitchen, noises that sound suspiciously like pots and pans being pulled out. I wait, listening, my book open on my lap, waiting for him to come to bed. Then I hear the microwave open and close.

Sighing, I throw the blankets back and head downstairs, making sure he hears me as I descend into the living room.

I hear a cabinet slam followed by another barked curse. Entering the kitchen, I lean a hip against the table and cross my arms, taking in the carnage around me.

The perks of having a chef for a husband: he makes delicious food for every anniversary, birthday, party, you name it.

The cons of having a chef for a husband: he makes questionable food when he’s drunk.

There’s a pot on the stove, pasta boiling away, while a pan filled with an unknown brown sauce simmers nearby. His trusty colander is already in the sink, waiting to be used, while he’s on his hands and knees, digging through the cabinets, looking for something. The microwave beeps, letting us know its contents are ready to be removed. He doesn’t even hear it.

I cross my arms and wait, thinking he’ll realize I’m here eventually. After another minute, listening to the microwave beep as it reminds us it’s done, I ask, “What are you looking for?”

A loud thump carries through the kitchen as Cassian bangs his head on the underside of the shelf he was searching through. He scrambles backward, which is honestly comical, before getting to his feet and facing me.

He freezes as his eyes rove over my body, taking in the t-shirt and the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath it. “Mother’s tits, you’re so fucking hot. I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

I smirk, welcoming the praise, but just then the microwave beeps again and he gasps. “Cheese toast.”

Blinking, I wait, making sure I heard him right.

Sure enough, he pulls a plate out of the microwave, consisting of two pieces of sandwich bread with cheese melted over it.

“Hungry?” I ask, chuckling as he tears into the cheese toast.

“Carbs,” he replies around a mouth full of cheese and bread, pointing a flailing arm at the pasta boiling on the stove, as if that explains it all. “Need carbs so I’m not hungover tomorrow.”

“You know another way not to be hungover?” I tease, sauntering over to him. “Don't drink your weight in liquor.”

“Baby, if I drank my weight in liquor I’d be dead,” he says, shoving the rest of the toast that’s not really toast in his mouth. “Have you seen me? I’m gigantic.” 

“Mhmm.” I’m close enough to him now that I brush his hair out of his face. “Where did those idiots take you?”

“The bar.”

I laugh, quietly. “I can tell that much. Which one?”

“Rita’s,” he croons. “They told her I’m renewing my vows tomorrow, and she gave us a free round of shots…multiple…multiple free rounds of shots.”

“Explains the whiskey on your breath,” I chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. Eat your noodles and come to bed.”

“You’re not staying?” He frowns. “Stay. Eat.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s after midnight. I’m old. I’m tired.”

“You’re not old, you’re…sexy in my shirt.” He grabs the old, thinned fabric and pulls me back towards him, but before he can make his move, the water boils over on the stove.

The words that come out of this man…I married a sailor. 

Despite being three sheets to the wind, Cassian is able to clean up quickly and salvage his meal. He plates his pasta and pours his sauce over it, which is a mix of barbecue sauce, honey, and orange marmalade, and smells much better than it has a right to. Just as I’m about to head upstairs, I pause to drop a kiss to the top of his head, telling him to hurry up, but his arms snake around my waist, pulling me down into his lap.

“Stay with me,” he grumbles, pressing his lips to my neck. “Please?”

“Eight o’clock is going to come super early,” I grumble, leaning back into his embrace.

With his free arm, he twirls the pasta on a fork and takes a big bite. “Sure as fuck is.”

We stay like that until he finishes eating, clearing his plate. I stand to take it to the sink, but as soon as I’m on my feet, he’s sweeping me into his arms.

It’s romantic, but with how much he’s had to drink, likely ill-advised.

“You better not fall down the stairs while you’re carrying me,” I threaten as he heads up to our room.

For a moment, he wavers, but just as I gasp he starts to laugh and straightens himself.

“Just kidding.”

I smack him on the arm which only seems to bring him more joy as he reaches the second floor landing and pads down the hall and into our room. He doesn’t drop me on the bed but brings me into the bathroom with him instead. He sets me on the vanity before pulling his shirt over his head and taking off his belt, giving me one hell of a show.

He knows I’m watching and he loves it, both of us shameless. 

After brushing his teeth and washing up, he kicks off the remainder of his jeans and scoops me up, yet again.

“Your hair is still a mess,” I grumble, my lips pressing against his shoulder.

“Sexy mess or disgusting mess?” He asks, and now that the alcohol is beginning to wear off, I can tell he’s exhausted. 

“Somewhere in the middle,” I say, and he chuckles as he lays me down in bed and crawls up behind me, wrapping me in his arms.

His body is warm, safe, my own personal haven. I don’t even think he realizes it, don’t even think he knows the magnitude of what his arms around me brings. I melt into him and close my eyes, sighing contentedly.

“Remember the night before our wedding?” He whispers into the darkness.

Laughing softly, I nod. “Yes, but I’m surprised you do.”

If I thought Cassian was drunk now, it was nothing compared to the state he was in when showed up on my doorstep at three in the morning. More specifically, the doorstep of my father’s house, where I was staying with my sisters that night. Feyre and Elain were both still in high school and I was never the best at making friends, so rather than going out and getting drunk the night before I got married, I hung out at home with my sisters.

Cassian, on the other hand, hung out with his brothers in our brand new apartment off campus and got trashed, thanks to one of the older guys in his fraternity buying them whatever they wanted as a wedding gift.

Rhys and Az had passed out in the living room and Cass decided it would be a good idea to come see me. So he called a cab and then he was there, drunk and stumbling and making so much noise that I’m sure my father heard him sneaking in. We fell asleep, just like this, in each other’s arms, just like we did every night. We didn’t care about any old wives tales about staying apart the night before. We wanted to be together, so that's what we did.

My father was not thrilled the next morning when he woke up and found Cassian sitting at the breakfast table.

“Dad was pissed.” I can’t help but laugh. “I knew without a doubt at that moment that I was making the right decision, marrying you.”

He hums. “Were you doubting it before my drunken escapade?”

“No,” I say, and run my fingers across the arm that’s slung around my waist. “But that just proved my feelings right. Validation.” 

He kisses the back of my neck. “I didn’t think I could love you more than I did back then. Didn’t think it was possible. But I do. I love you more now than I did then, and I’ll love you more tomorrow than I do today.”

I swallow as my eyes line with tears. “Save it for your vows.”

He huffs a laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. My vows are way more romantic than that.”

I can’t wait to hear them, can’t wait to stand with him hand in hand and celebrate our marriage after all that we have overcome. As I drift off into a deep sleep, I once again know, without a doubt, that Cassian is my one and only, the other half of my soul, my lifelong partner and my best friend. 

I don’t know what I did to be this damn lucky.

[areyoudreaminof]

This Life and the Next: A Nessian Playlist

It's finally @nessianweek! And of course for Day 3 I had to make a playlist!

We love their banter, their angst, their passion, and their deep undying love for one another. To watch Cassian and Nesta find each other despite their own personal challenges was such a beautiful and satisfying love story. For this playlist, I tried to follow a somewhat narrative structure that fell in line with ACOSF. I wanted to represent these two people finding one another and lifting the other up. This playlist also has a fun little bonus track for your fun Nessian writing needs. LISTEN HERE and take a look at some lyrics behind the cut.

As The World Caves In-Matt Maltese

My feet are aching And your back is pretty tired And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe And set our grief aside And here it is, our final night alive And as the earth burns to the ground Oh, girl, it's you that I lie with As the atom bomb locks in Oh, it's you I watch TV with As the world, as the world caves in

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene-Hozier

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

Lose My Cool-Amber Marks

I was so full of pain just stuck in my head There was no one that could get me out of it Yes I think the drinking was a bit excessive Just to be frank the drinking ain't what caused me to be aggressive My heart has been taken over Everyday I get colder to 'em I realize need to let go expression from the get go to 'em Feeling it like I just need to speak my brain

Banquet-Bloc Party

And if you feel A little left behind We will wait for you on the other side 'Cause I'm on fire 'Cause you know I'm on fire when you come

Homage-Mild High Club

Please just have a laugh with me 'Cause you know I'm borrowing by now These sounds, have already crowned Come on it's a silly dream Dreaming of the imagery unfound The view sits nice from that cloud

Make You Better-The Decemberists

I'll love you in springtime I lost you when summer came And when you pulled backwards I wanted to, I needed to Oh-oh, to make me better

Andromeda- Weyes Blood

Treat me right I'm still a good man's daughter Let me in if I break And be quiet if I shatter Gettin' tired of looking You know that I hate the game Don't wanna waste any more time You know I been holdin' out Love is calling It's time to give to you

Skulls-Bastille

I don't want to rest in peace I'd rather be the ghost that annoys you I hope you can make me laugh Six feet down when we're bored of each other A match is our only light

When our lives are over and all that remains Are our skulls and bones, let's take it to the grave And hold me in your arms, hold me in your arms I'll be buried here with you And I'll hold in these hands, all that remains

Leather-Tori Amos

Look, I'm standing naked before you Don't you want more than my sex? I can scream as loud as your last one But I can't claim innocence Oh God, could it be the weather? Oh God, why am I here? If love isn't forever And it's not the weather Hand me my leather

waves-Miguel & Kacey Musgraves

Put it out, I'm on fire, fire That’s what I’m about, take me higher, higher, tonight I'm gonna ride that wave

the last beautiful thing I saw..-Paris Paloma

And I looked up, and saw the sun It separated all the colors And the ice, into my eyes It fell and left me blind That was the last thing that I saw The fractured glass and its downpour I felt the blood mix with the water And I didn't see no more

Rut-The Killers

So I'm handing you a memory I hope you understand That steadily reminds you of who I really am

This city's always breathing, I wish that it would die The kickbacks and the bachelors, the fever for the velvet rope The money from my mother's men I'm not like her, you're not like them

Tell Me You Love Me-Sufjan Stevens

My love, I've lost my faith in everything Tell me you love me anyway, tell me you love me anyway My love, I feel myself unravelling Tell me you love me anyway, tell me you love me anyway My love, I feel the darkness on my back

Eternal Flame-Saint Sister

I believe it's meant to be, darling I watch you when you are sleeping You belong with me Do you feel the same? Or am I only dreaming? Is this burning an eternal flame?

Milk & Black Spiders-Foals

Oh, I hope you can hear me All those million miles away, you'd stay 'Cause I'd love you dearly All those billion miles away 'Cause I've been around two times And found that you're the only thing I need

BONUS TRACK: Smut-Tom Lehrer

Give me smut And nothing but! A dirty novel I can't shut If it's uncut And unsubt-tle

Taglist: @asnowfern @damedechance @foundress0fnothing @foreverinelysian @gaeleria @goddess-aelin @itsthedoodle @kataravimes-of-the-shire @krem-does-stuff @labellefleur-sauvage @moodymelanist @c-e-d-dreamer @nessianweek @octobers-veryown @popjunkie42-blog @reverie-tales @rosanna-writer @spell-cleavers @sassyhobbits @separatist-apologist @secret-third-thing @thesistersarcheron @the-lonelybarricade @ultadverb @vulpes-fennec @witchlingsandwyverns @xtaketwox @wilde-knight @witch-and-her-witcher @iftheshoef1tz @ofduskanddreams @talons-and-teeth

[spiritedstars]

Till the Darkness Dies [ Nessian ]

Prompt: Nesta’s battle against her inner demons. Inspired by this post. This was supposed to be humorous and ended up with lots of feels instead. | Originally posted on 10.23.2017.

Pairing: Nesta x Cassian (Nessian) Genre: Angst and fluff Rating: SFW Recommended Listen: OneRepublic’s Let’s Hurt Tonight & Something I Need Author’s note: I identify with Nesta in many ways and I just love reading about her coming to terms with the way she feels about things so here’s my spin on it. This was obviously pre-ACOSF and looking back now, I love seeing how I pictured this happening vs how it played out in canon!

Nesta clenched and unclenched her fists several times as she stood in the archway of the dining room in the House of Wind. A while had gone by since the end of the war and yet...she was still having a difficult time adjusting.

She had planned to ask Feyre for a place today but everyone else was there. Everyone was constantly there after the war; the panic of them on the brink of death had them always together. But Nesta...she hated the way she still didn’t feel like she fit in with them.

More significantly, she hated that he would be there and they had yet to discuss that moment in the battle and all the aftermath of it.

She didn’t want to deal with it today.  She just wanted some peace.

Sighing, Nesta stepped into the dining room.

“Hello.” she greeted and everyone down the table expressed their greeting in return. Elain and Lucien seated next to each other and because of Elain’s flushed cheeks and wide smile that matched Lucien’s, she didn’t narrow her eyes at the sight. Azriel nodded and Mor gave her a small smile then resumed their conversation. Amren gave her a wink and Rhys a dip of his head.

Feyre patted the seat next to her and Nesta moved. She didn’t see if he had greeted her and told herself that she didn’t care if he did or not. She didn't want to look at him and yet — Nesta's eyes betrayed her as she took her seat and found that he was staring at her.

She flushed and quickly lowered her eyes to her plate, hating that he could see how she felt and the look he had given her.

Confusion. Longing.

He had no right to look at her that way.

Nesta gripped the fork and swallowed. She really didn’t want to be angry today. She was tired of being angry. All she wanted was a peaceful evening with the group. For once.

“You look nice, Nesta. The color suits you.”

Feyre’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and she flushed again, looking at her younger sister who was smiling at her.

“Oh. Thank you.” Nesta answered quietly, aware that his eyes were still on her. So, Nesta turned to look her sister over. “You look nice as well...you always do.”

Feyre’s smile widened and she reached out to Nesta’s free hand and squeezed. “Thanks, Nes.” she replied and Nesta gave her a small smile. “But I have to say, out of us sisters, you bring out something special in everything that you wear.”

Nesta chuckled. “Is this High Lady sweet talk?”

“Maybe.” Feyre said with a laugh. “I mean it though!”

“Guess Rhys really has influenced you in every way.”

“Oh no, sister in law,” Rhysand interrupted, leaning close enough to nudge Feyre with his shoulder. “Your sister’s mouth was always wicked. You should hear the things she says behind closed doors.”

“I most definitely don’t want to hear about that.” Nesta replied with a snort as Feyre shoved Rhys with a huff, causing him to laugh.

Conversation resumed around the table as the food was served but Nesta’s eyes turned back to the High Lord and Lady and her gaze softened. They have been through hell and back and Feyre — it hit Nesta again how young Feyre had been when everything had happened...her youngest sister deserved all the happiness in the world. She deserved a love like this and the life she dreamed of.

Nesta took a small bite from her meal as her eyes drifted to her other sister and her mate. It had taken Elain a bit to adjust to Lucien in her life but he had been patient and kind in every way. Nesta would always give him credit for that despite her reservations. The two were wrapped up in each other, deep in conversation and though Nesta had been very wary of him, she couldn’t deny how well they matched. How well they got along. Elain had been looking for the sun and found it in Lucien. This, of course, didn’t stop Nesta from calling him names but she was nicer to him — for Elain’s sake.

She let her eyes fall back to her plate and held back a sigh. Her sisters were well adjusted and moving forward with themselves. But she? She didn’t fit any mold. She couldn’t adjust.

Her fingers tightened around the fork again and she knew why she couldn’t adjust. The reason was sitting at this table.

The powers that the Cauldron had given her had stopped bothering her. She was able to take baths without trouble now and she was getting used to her body, happy with it. Nesta had fallen in love with Velaris and had even started volunteering at the library because she loved it so much but connecting with others? That had been more difficult.

After everything had settled down postwar, Nesta had pulled both her sisters in a room and the three finally talked. About everything. They had let it all out. It had resulted in yelling and a lot of tears but when the three of them lay in bed together that night, a reminder of the one other time they had, a large weight had been lifted off each of their shoulders, especially Nesta’s. It had been a chance for her to start over with the others. And she had.

Rhysand was easier to talk to then she had previously expected. Azriel’s presence was more comforting. Mor’s personality bright and warm though a little awkwardness still remained. Amren was still her favorite just because she put up with everyone just about as much as Nesta did. She and Lucien had even found common ground.

But him.

Him.

He was a problem.

Nesta’s gut tightened and she placed her fork back on the table. It was getting harder and harder to be around him. They hadn’t talked. If anything, they danced around each other; sometimes he avoided her and sometimes she avoided him

She found herself torn in two directions with him. One that shouted Why should I care? He means nothing to me. While the other shouted back, He does matter to you. You were going to die with him. He means more to you than you think.

Nesta shook her and picked up her fork again. She’d try to act normal. At least until she figured out when she could find a place to hide away in for a while.

“Nesta, you alright?”

Nesta turned to look at Feyre, who was giving her a concerned look and Nesta gave her another small smile.

“I’m okay. Just thinking.” she replied. “But I want to ask you something when you have a minute.”

“Of course.”

~

Once dinner had finally ended and Nesta and Cassian tiptoed around each other to the point of pain, she was practically begging Feyre to move away from the group.

“I...want out for a bit.”

Feyre blinked at her statement. “Alright. What...did you have in mind?”

Nesta bit her lip then held out her hands with a shrug. “I don’t know. Somewhere where I can just think.” she said, her tone clipped. “Somewhere where I can just…”

Not feel so lonely.

Not have to see him.

“I just...is there a place? To...gather myself?” Nesta finished quietly and Feyre gave her a soft smile.

“I know just the place.”

~

Nesta stepped into the cabin and her gaze was drawn right to the eyes painted above her. She swallowed when they reached the hazel ones she knew were meant to be his.

She turned back to Feyre who watched her quietly. “What is this place?”

Feyre chuckled then took a seat on the couch. “This cabin has been a refuge for us all at some point.” she said, smiling fondly as she glanced around at all the paintings she had done. “It’s a place to be ourselves.”

Nesta nodded then pointed to the eyes painted above the archway. “I’m assuming this is your work.”

“Yes.” she replied and stood up, walking over to her sister. “I came here the day I found out that Rhys was my mate. He knew. Mor and Amren knew but he hadn’t told me and I...freaked out.”

Nesta’s eyes shifted from the hazel ones on the wall to her sister, who was running a hand through her hair.

“I was here for some time, figuring myself out before he came and we talked.” Feyre continued. “Then I accepted the bond and...here we are.”

Nesta’s lip twitched. “I’m assuming every surface here has been violated by you and Rhys?”

Feyre gave her sister a look and then rolled her eyes. “While you’re here, this place is spelled to provide you with all your needs. All you have to do is think it.”

“Anything?” Nesta asked with a raised brow.

“I believe so.” Feyre replied with a identical brow raise.

Nesta’s lips twitched again as she thought about how much she just absolutely needed a box of chocolates at this very moment. Her eyes widened in delight as a box materialized on the table and Feyre laughed.

“You know, I hadn’t thought of chocolate.”

Nesta just shook her head and smiled. “Chocolate, sister, is always a priority.”

“I’ll check on you after three days?” Feyre asked with a smile and Nesta shook her head.

“Seven.”

“A week? You sure?”

“Positive...Thank you, Feyre.”

Feyre only gave her a smile then walked over to Nesta and gave her a tight hug that she gently returned, squeezing her little sister. “If you need me before, the cabin will provide you with a paper and pen that’ll send me a message. Enjoy.”

Nesta turned to look over the cabin again as the door closed and Feyre left. Her eyes fell back on the hazel ones painted above and she let out a sigh.

Maybe she should’ve talked to him sooner. But now there was too much time between them. Maybe the distance would be a good thing.

No matter. She thought to herself as she explored, box of chocolates in her hand. I’ve come to just enjoy myself. I won’t think about him.

The first two days, that mindset worked. She spent it dipped in a glorious bubble bath with water that stayed warm, reading. She read in the tub, she read in the bed, she read in front of the fire. She had sat in different flowy and soft dresses with her hair hanging loosely down her back for the first time in years.

By the third day, it got a little trickier. Her eyes kept flickering back to his hazel ones on the wall and she huffed, annoyed. She didn’t want to think of him. It had been too long since she’d had peace and quiet to herself where she can just enjoy her time. She read her books, watched the snow fall through the window with her cups of hot cocoa and chocolate then soaked in the bath some more. She wondered if he thought of her.

Nesta’s face flushed, thinking of him while lying in a bath. Naked. She wondered if he had ever thought of her that way.

He’s a pig. Of course he has. She thought to herself. Then said it out loud since no one could hear her. This caused her to scowl. He wasn’t a pig but he was a male. And she was beautiful.

“Why am I even having this argument with myself?” she muttered, later that day as she wrapped a blanket around herself, trying to sleep. “I don’t need him.”

~

“I need wine.”

Sure enough, a soft thud on the table told her her needs had been met on the fourth day of her retreat and she grinned in delight.

“Thank you, oh wondrous cabin.”

Grabbing the bottle, she padded to the couch by the window and sat, curling her legs underneath her. She had opted for just the leggings and a sweater instead of her usual dresses and Nesta felt absolutely scandalous. Popping the cork, she took a swing straight from the bottle and held it in front of her.

“You have indeed unleashed yourself, Nesta.” she spoke aloud to herself after she drained half the bottle. “Leggings...wine straight from the bottle...boxes and boxes of chocolate...and hair not once in a braid. You uncivilized swine.”

Then she burst into giggles. Oh she was enjoying herself. And not once, had she thought of him.

She scowled as her eyes instantly went to his hazel ones painted above.

“Well now I’m thinking of you, you stupid brute.”

Nesta downed the rest of the bottle and then stood up as another appeared on the table.

“You stupid, dumb, handsome bat.” she hissed, pointing a finger at his hazel eyes before grabbing the second bottle and popping it open. “I let you kiss me. I saved your life! I was going to die for you!”

She took another swing and shuddered gently. “I was going to die for you and you couldn’t even talk to me afterwards.” she whispered.

Nesta spent the rest of that day, wrapped in the bed, wine and chocolate in hand. Thinking about all the ways the two of them had failed each other.

~

The morning of the fifth day, Nesta woke slowly. She washed her face, her mouth, and ran her fingers through her loose hair. Maybe she would wear it down more often. It looked so nice.

She made herself some breakfast and as she sat down to eat, her eyes once again flickering to his hazel ones.

“I don’t hate you.” she said, after she had swallowed her first bite. “I just wish we didn’t have to be so awkward. I wish we could talk things through without feeling like I’m doing to die.”

That day was spent between the pages of a book, with more chocolate and wine but Nesta was distracted, her thoughts from the previous night haunting her.

Maybe she did need him. A lot more than she would want to admit.

She was terrified. When had he grown to be this important to her? When?

One moment they were going to throttle each other and the next, they were going to walk through death together.

Nesta wanted to be wrapped in his arms and never let go but she also wanted to punch him in the face. She wanted to talk to him but what if he didn’t want to talk to her?

She thought of the look he had given her a few days ago at dinner. What did that mean if he didn’t follow up with action?

Why was he longing for her when he couldn’t even speak to her?

Nesta had tried. But he always ran off.

To Mor. To Azriel. To Rhys. To Feyre.

Which was fine. They were his friends and family, after all.

But he never came to her.

And why did it bother her so much?

“Because I love him and I hate that he might not love me back.” she whispered into the night, curled on her side in a ball, blinking back tears that were threatening to escape.

She was used to feeling unwanted and disliked. What if it was just that one thing driving him? Like it drives all males? Like Thomas.

Nesta sniffled then rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Cassian was nothing like that heaping pile of trash. Cassian was ten times the man that Thomas could ever hope to be.

And yet. Doubt drowned her. Why? Why would he be attracted to her? She wasn’t the most likable person and Nesta was fine with that. So why was he attracted to her? Was it because they were meant to be more and that was it?

She fell asleep, her dreams bringing out all the things she didn’t dare voice aloud to anyone, especially herself.

Cassian was the biggest need of all.

~

She jolted awake at the loud thud that came from the front door. Quickly, she washed her face and mouth and smoothed her hair as she cautiously approached the door.

Had Feyre come early?

Slowly, she opened the door, half hiding behind it and her eyes widened as she took in Cassian, standing in front of her, a confused look on his face.

The walls she had let down the past few days came rising back up instantly and Nesta narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I...don’t know.” he answered, scratching his head. “One minute I’m eating breakfast in the townhouse and the next I’m here.”

Nesta stared him down. She could invite him in and they could talk...but she could also invite him in and then he wouldn’t talk and it’ll make everything worse and then —

Fear won and Nesta snarled at him, “Well, go away! I don’t want you here!”

He glared at her then spat, “Fine.” Launching himself into the sky and far, far away from her.

She shut the door and stood against it, breathing in and out.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” she mumbled and paced around for a few minutes. That had been so stupid of her. Why hadn’t she just let him in? They needed to talk.  Cassian wasn’t a bad person. He wouldn’t try to hurt her on purpose.

“But your feelings have been hurt by him multiple times.” she said, convincing herself and then paused. “But you also hurt his feelings.”

She groaned then let out a growl of frustration. “You hurt everyone’s feelings, Nesta!”

“Nes?”

Her head whipped towards the door and the muffled voice that called her name.

He was back.

Why?

Slowly, she went to the door again and opened it slightly. “What?” she asked quietly and Cassian crossed his arms, giving her a smirk.

“You do know this house is spelled to provide you with whatever you need, right?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes, cheeks flushing, catching onto what he meant. “Yes. What I need is peace and quiet. You will provide me with neither. So go away.”

The two stared at each other for a few minutes before Cassian sighed.

“I can’t.” he said softly. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” she snarled softly. “What changed your mind?”

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here unless you needed me. And I’ve been looking for some way for us to talk for weeks. I need you too...Can I come in? Please?”

She stared at him and bit her lip. A few minutes ago she was yelling about pushing him away...maybe this time…

“Fine.”

Nesta moved away from the door and Cassian let himself in, surveying the room and Nesta felt how his eyes fell on her — her leggings — the hair —

“Shit, Nes.”

Her cheeks flushed again and she self-consciously started braiding her hair again but he gently reached out to stop her. “I — I didn’t have time to change...I just woke up.” she said lamely but he continued to stare.

“I...You look beautiful in everything but…,” he started, taking in the lower half of her body that was usually hidden by her dresses. “I love the casual on you.”

She scowled, more at herself for enjoying the compliment than at him for giving her one. “Thank you.” she said stiffly.

The two stood awkwardly staring at each other and Nesta willed herself not to huff as his hand fell from hers.

“So…” Cassian said, lightly tapping his fist to his side as he scanned the room and she flushed as his eyes fell towards the many wine bottles and boxes of chocolate she had stacked in a neat pile of trash.

“So.”

“Did you have breakfast yet?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting at her clipped tone.

“No.”

“Good. I’ll make us some since someone interrupted my breakfast.” he said with a grin and moved past her.  She instantly curled her fists and glared at him.

“That wasn’t my fault. This stupid cabin doesn’t know what I meant.”

Cassian turned to look at her from his spot behind the counter with a raised brow. “And what exactly did you mean, sweetheart?”

Her glare remained as she took a seat, watching him move about as if he did this every day.

“You know how to cook?”

Cassian looked over his shoulder and chuckled. “Yes. I enjoy it.” he replied. “Answer my question.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “I was just thinking about everyone else eating breakfast. I didn’t expect anyone to actually come here.”

Cassian grinned and Nesta couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss his mouth or punch it.

“Now, now, Nesta. You don’t have to lie. It’s okay to say you missed me and wanted my company.”

She snorted and her anger flared up. “We’ve ignored each other completely for the past few weeks. Why would I miss you?”

This made Cassian pause and she watched his expression fall before turning back to his kitchen duty.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Nesta’s anger died down at those words and she watched him, biting her lip. This was why she should stay away. She didn’t really know how to be nice. Or how to be soft. She wouldn’t even know how to try and be that for him if she wanted to. If he wanted her to.

Cassian turned and his eyes met hers, taking in her expression and Nesta quickly looked away. She didn’t want him to know how badly she was battling herself. But it was like he knew. He always knew.

“You know, I learned how to cook from Rhys’s mom.” he said into the silence that followed his previous statement and Nesta looked up at him as he shuffled around the small kitchen. “She taught me all the basic things. As a bastard little nobody, you took every learning opportunity you could get. Never know when it’ll benefit you.”

He gave her a half smile at that and Nesta bit back her own.

“When I got older and had my own place, I took it upon myself to learn how to cook as many things as I could.” He continued and she watched him. “It became a way for me to relax. I’ve had a lot of fun with it.”

And because she scared he would see how endearing she found him in this moment, she cleared her throat and said, “Are you actually any good?”

He laughed softly then turned to give her a wink. “I guess we’ll find out in a little bit, won’t we?”

She glared at him again until he turned back around then Nesta let her eyes soften, drinking in his every movement.

I could get used to this.

No you can’t, Nesta. Shut up.

But he knows how to cook...and he looks so good doing it.

So? You can’t even talk to him properly.

We don’t have to talk. We can just be.

That’s stupid, Nesta. Get it together. He’s been here for two minutes.

But he’s so handsome. And he’s actually kind.

He’s stupid.

No he’s not.

Shut up, please.

You like him.

Shut up.

You love him.

Shut. Up. Nesta.

“You don’t need to tell yourself to shut up, Nes. I could do that for you.”

Nesta’s cheeks burned as she realized the last part of her inner monologue had been blurted out.

“Shut your fat mouth.” she hissed at him and he just gave her his shit-eating grin as he started to set the table.

“Was that directed towards you or me this time?”

“You, you annoying bat.” she snapped and he had the audacity to chuckle.

Cassian rolled his eyes as he paused and leaned against the table. “Tell me, Nesta, have you been talking to yourself the whole time you’ve been here? That’s not a good sign.”

It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes. “Mind your business.”

“That’s what happens when your diet consists of wine and chocolate. You start to lose it.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Don’t worry, Cassian is here to give you the good stuff.”

“Nothing good comes from you.”

“Can’t decide that till you’ve actually tried it, Nes.”

“Don’t make me throw something at you.”

“I’ll even let you decide which good stuff you want first, my body or the food.”

She snorted and glared at him yet again, as he laughed.

“Am I starting to annoy you, Nesta? You know you’re being really mean to me. I’m being a good person and making you breakfast but you’re not being nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you more than you think.”

Nesta scoffed. “You know nothing.”

Cassian pursed his lips then turned from her, settling the food on two plates and it was then, with his back to her that she let herself frown.

She was so fucken scared. Nesta was so scared to be nice for one moment and the worst to come from it. She was awful to him. Awful to everyone. Why would he stay? What could he possibly want?

She blinked when a plate full of delicious looking food was placed in front of her and Nesta almost groaned in delight at the smell.

“Thank you.” she said quietly, her eyes on the plate. She heard Cassian’s chair shuffle and then him as he settled himself, his eyes glued on her.

“You’re welcome.”

A silence fell between them again, neither one of them touching their plates.

What would she say? She had thought about all the things she would or could say to him the past few days and yet, here he was in front of her and all the words had abandoned her.

“Nesta, look at me.”

She bit her lip and blinked rapidly. It was so damn hard to resist him, especially when he spoke to her like that. Softly, tenderly, with such care.

“Why?” she whispered to him, meeting his gaze. “Why are you here? Why do you care?”

“Because I love you.”

He said it so simply. As if it wouldn’t tear her in two. As if they were the easiest words to fall off his lips.

“Why?” she managed to choke out and he gave her a small smile.

“Because you drive me crazy.” he replied, again, simply. As if he was just stating the obvious truth.

Nesta felt the tears building up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“You just like the challenge.” she said, her tone tight. “The chase.”

“Yes, that’s true. I do like those.” he said with a nod and she shot him an incredulous look.

“So that’s what it is? A game?” she hissed, hating herself that her walls were so thin her bottom lip was trembling, even as her hands curled into fists on the table. “A game to see if you could win over the ice queen? The bitchy, vicious Nesta?”

His hand quickly crossed the table to grip hers but she pulled back, shooting up from her seat as though she’d been burned.

“I — I — we were going to die together!” she snarled, her eyes wild. “I wanted to sacrifice myself for you and you — you — all this is just because you want what doesn’t want you!”

“That’s not true.” he growled at her, shooting up from his own seat and making his way to her. “I wasn’t finished.”

“I don’t care!”

“But I do!” and his snarl shook the mountains around them and rendered her silent as she watched him. Nesta watched as he glanced at her with pain and panic in his eyes, his hands running through his hair, eyes darting all over the room as if trying to find a place to settle.

“I love you. I love you to the point — I have a hard time breathing when I’m away from you, Nesta.” he said quietly. “I love that you challenge me. You keep me on my toes. You’re smart, beautiful, and powerful. You’re blunt and honest. You don’t take shit from anyone and I love that about you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again and met her eyes this time.

“I see you. All of you. I see how this scares you. The idea of us.” he continued and shuddered. “I know you felt something between us the moment we met. When you were still human. I couldn’t stay away from you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was awful.”

“No, you weren’t.” he replied, moving closer to her. “You love fiercely and that makes you a force to be reckoned with. You feel everything so much to the point that you think it’s too much and then deny anyone else from seeing you feel those things. But I see you, Nesta. I see it all. And I want you to share that with me. Let me in, Nesta.”

Nesta glanced at him and let the words he was saying sink in. She hadn’t realized tears had started streaming down her face till then and she furiously wiped them away.

“But you stopped talking to me.” she whispered, looking at him angrily through her tears. “I — I wanted this. I wanted you! But you...you made it clear you didn’t want me.”

He shook his head and moved even closer to her, till his hands came up to cup her face. “No...I was scared and embarrassed. I thought you would be better off without me.”

She scoffed and pulled away, wiping the fresh tears on her face. “Why would you think that?”

“I failed you. Multiple times. I failed you.” he whispered and Nesta saw the haunted look in his face. “Every promise I made you, I broke it. I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t protect you. What would you want with me?”

“I want everything with you, you stupid brute!” she snarled. “You’re my mate!”

Cassian froze and Nesta took that time to try and control her heavy breathing.

“You know?” he asked hoarsely.

“Of course.” she spat. “The moment right before the meeting with the High Lords. You felt it too. I know you did.”

“I...wasn’t sure you had. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“You idiot.” she snapped and started punching every bit of him she could find. “That’s — when — everything — changed! We became more!”

Cassian took her punches like a champ; felt like nothing to him. He glanced at her in her fury then quickly grabbed her hands, halting her attack.

They locked eyes, the intensity between them hot enough, it could’ve melted the snow surrounding them. And for all her wrath, for all her anger and spite — it all died down when he looked at her that way.

Softly, tenderly, so full of love.

“I’m sorry.” he said again. “I’m sorry that I was a misguided coward, choosing to think that staying away from you would be easier for us both.”

She froze and he continued.

“I’m sorry that I let you think for one moment, that I wasn’t deeply and hopelessly in love with you. Because I am.” he said. “I see all of you. All your rage and all your love. I see your heart, Nesta. And I want it all. I love you and would be honored to be your mate till the darkness dies. If you’ll have me.”

Nesta stared at him and felt her whole body trembling, her composure crumbling. She shook her head.

“I...I — ” she took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’m sorry that I was a coward too...and I’m sorry for all the awful things I said. I — I don’t know how to do this. I want it all. I want it with you. But I’m scared — I’m terrified — I —”

Cassian cut her off, taking both her hands in his again, his wings fluttering behind him. “I’m scared too. But we’ll figure it out together.” he said so softly and silver lined her eyes again.

It took her a moment to speak and when she did, her voice was barely a whisper.

“Will you be patient with me?” she asked, sniffling. “You won’t...leave?”

Cassian smiled at her tenderly, curling a hair behind her ear. He leaned down and kissed away at her tears, causing Nesta to shudder.

“We’ll go as slow as you need, love.” he said gently. “I’m here with you, Nesta. I want it all. They could drag my body away in pieces and I’d still try to find my way back to you.”

Nesta pulled back and looked Cassian over. This was real. He was here. He was her mate. And he wanted to stay. Her eyes drank him in and he watched her with a small smile on his face.

“I love you.” she said quietly and she felt him melt in her hands.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close to him and before she knew it, his lips were on hers. Their kiss was everything she had wanted and dreamed about since the moment his lips were on her neck all that time ago. Her fingers fisted around the front of his tunic and gripped, not wanting to let him go as she deepened the kiss. One of Cassian’s hands came up to the back of her neck as he dipped her back lightly, their kiss becoming all tongue and light bites and Nesta fought back a moan.

When Cassian’s lips moved to her neck, goosebumps erupted on her body and a soft whimper escaped her lips.

“Cassian.” she whispered and slowly — very slowly, Cassian came to a stop and pulled her back upright, their hands still firmly wrapped around each other.

He gave her a smirk. “Guess you picked which good stuff you wanted to try first, huh Nes?”

She narrowed her eyes at him causing his smirk to turn into a grin. “Don’t make me smack you senseless, you intolerable bat.”

“You’ve already knocked me off my feet, oh mighty Nesta. Go for it.” he challenged and a small smile found its way to her lips. Nesta stared at him again and he gave her a sweet smile in return.

Leaning up, she cupped his face gently then placed a soft kiss on his lips, then another, and then another.

“Till the darkness dies?” she repeated to him and he leaned down to give her a tender kiss.

“Till the darkness dies, sweetheart.”

[fieldofdaisiies]

Nessian | Comfort

type: angst/fluff warning(s): curse words word count: 1.8k words summary: Cassian is not feeling his best after another unsatisfactory visit to Windhaven, Nesta is there to comfort him and tell him that what he does is enough. That he is good. 

-all rights reserved-

“Not now, Nes, alright?” Cassian’s voice is softer than usual, barely above a whisper. He sits on the chair in front of his desk, his hands folded behind his neck, his head hanging lowly. Nesta takes a tiny step back, her hand still on her mate’s shoulder and leans down.

“What is it, Cassian?” she asks, an emotion she can’t quite place yet reaching her through the bond. 

She feels the temperature of Cassian’s skin cool, and also in the room it drops at least two degrees.

The Valkyrie has an inkling of what is bothering her mate, but she has not believed that it would afflict him so much. Cassian, he looks different. He no longer looks the strong and powerful general. He looks younger, weaker and more vulnerable. His shoulders are hunched and chest is heaving with deep inhales when Nesta crouches down in front of him, her hands moving to cup her mate’s cheeks in her palms. “Cassian…”

Her voice, so soft, so angelic, it makes Cassian lift his head, his gaze brushing over Nesta’s face and meeting her eyes of blue. It makes him smile a little. His smile does not fully reach his eyes, but still his heart feels more at ease, knowing his mate is there for him, her soft hands on his face, her voice reaching him, her love enveloping him. 

“It is just…” Cassian squeezes his eyes shut. He does not want Nesta to see him so vulnerable and weak. He wants to be her strong warrior, her protector, but at the same time he also knows that he can let this weak side show. That he can be vulnerable and weak with her. Because Nesta understands. Because Nesta is strong. Because Nesta is just like him and can protect him. Will protect him. Will support him. Will be there for him. 

Sorrow makes her stomach cramp, her thumb softly stroking Cassian’s cheek, the light stubble grazing his skin. She silently regards him, his eyes look so dull, so empty, so not as full of life as the always look when he gazes at her. 

Now the wound that has long not fully healed and that Devlon has once again ripped open is obvious in Cassian’s eyes. And Nesta also feels his pain, his sorrow through the bond. This bitter, sour filling that is reaching her, that fills her mouth, her heart, her soul. 

“Tell me about your pain, Cassian.” Nesta speaks in a way that comforts Cassian. It already makes the Illyrian general feel more at ease, comforted and protected. 

“It is just like with Eris, meeting with Devlon always…always makes me feel like I am not strong. He always has the upper hand, no matter what I do. Not matter how hard I try. He does not care that I am the general…and this–Nesta I don’t want you to think that I am weak. That I don’t have control over the Illyrians, that—“ The Valkyrie does not let him finish. She pulls her mate’s head to her 

It hurts Nesta to see her mate hurt. Because apperently he is the only one who does not see how amazing he is. But Cassian is good. In his soul, in his warrior heart, Cassian is good. One of the best people in the whole entire world. The best person in her little world, in her life. Cassian is her person, her equal, her other half, and seeing him hurt hurts her. 

“He is a fucking bastard, but maybe he is right. Maybe I am this fucking Illyrian brute who—“ “Shut up!” Nesta pulls back sharply and once again cradles her mate’s face in her hands. “You shut up! That is not true. Not one bit. You are no brute. You are my mate. The general of the Illyrian warriors. A great and skilled warrior. A talented and smart thinker. You are Cassian, the love of my life, my husband, my forever. And you are no brute. Never were one and never will be one. Ever!”

Shame once again coats her insides when she thinks about herself calling Cassian a brute. It has been long ago, but that does not undo the words from having been spoken.

But now, now she can make up for it. Now she can help him, convince him that Cassian is indeed amazing. 

“Bath or cuddling in bed?” Nesta says. The gentleness of her voice surprising Cassian for a moment, has been shouting at him just a minute earlier. His gaze so fully empty meets hers and Cassian cocks his head. “Both?”

His request almost sounds boyish, he almost looks boyish–so young and 

Nesta believes that this is what Cassian must have been like as a youngling in the war camps. And this hurts her as well. She wants the grin back, the teasing remarks, the cockiness, the swaggering, the winking. She wants her Cass back. And she wants for Cassian to be at ease again.

“Well, both it is then. I will run us a bath, come join me in a few minutes.” She is giving him this few minutes of solitude, knowing that this is what people often need, but are also often not granted. 

Cassian strips out of his clothes in their shared bed room and joins his wonderful mate a few minutes later in the bathroom. Nesta has already sat down in the bath, nestling against the large tub ball, but sliding forward when the general walks in. She smiles at him, comforting and warm.

Cassian weakly returns it, walking over to the bath and lifting one leg. He steps into the hot liquid, reveling in the feel of the water brushing against his skin. Nesta slides further forward, making space for her mate behind her. No words are spoken, this all works without conversation. The don’t need to talk, they know their partner so well already that things like this work non-verbal. 

Cassian hums lowly when he fully sits down, stretching his legs, the hot water soothing his sore muscles. He reaches for Nesta, wanting to pull her to his chest, but Nesta turns, moving through the water to take her seat on his lap. The Archeron sister’s hands land on her mate’s shoulders, her gaze lifting to her mate’s, her chest touching his. And this time, this time Cassian truly smiles and it reaches his eyes.

“I love you, Nes. What would I do without you?” 

“You would still be as amazing as you are,” Nesta says, leaning forward and pecking the corner of her mate’s mouth. That draws a soft, low laugh from Cassian, his shoulders shaking slightly, and he bounces Nesta an inch on his lap. “Nesta, I would not. And I am not amazing.” Furrowing her brows, the Valkyrie pouts and gives her head a shake. “You are amazing and I hate that seemingly you are the only person who does not see that. How can someone who is so skilled and smart and talented also be so very blind!” 

Frustration laces her features and also reaches the general to the bond. He can only cradle her to his chest, his big hands brushing up and down her back when he holds her closely–holds onto Nesta for dear life. “You are my world, Nesta Archeron!” “You are my world, Cassian Archeron!”

The general chuckles softly, his chest rumbling and brushing against Nesta, and although she feels wet heat pool in her core and her nipples harden at their intimate moment and the hard press of her mate’s arousal against her centre, she does not want this night to end with them having sex. In the past they have often done this in order to comfort the other. Not anymore. 

Nesta wants them to a have soft and gentle night, some kissing, some soft stroking and touching and a lot of cuddling. Nesta also knows that this is exactly what Cassian wants and what he needs. 

“Devlon is a fucker and honestly he does not deserve one moment of self doubt from you. He knows you are great, he just wants to make you look weak.”

The Archeron sister reaches behind her mate, grabbing a sponge and dabbing it onto some soap. A moment later she brushes it over her mate’s chest, his neck, his arms and also his head. She is careful not to have any soap run into Cassian’s eyes, using some water to wash his hair. 

“I think we should get rid of him. Let Lady Death take her of him?” A vicious, mischievous glint appears in her eyes that Cassian loves. He shifts her slightly on his lap, adjusting himself because just like his mate he does not want this night to end with them fucking but with them holding each other, kissing softly, and embracing the closeness and touch of their mate.

“I would love to let you do this, but I don’t want any uproar, or rather any more uproar in windhaven.” Reluctantly and with a tiny roll of her eyes, Nesta nods. What Cassian has said makes sense, but still is a little frustrating. 

After drying of the couple neglects any clothes and heads straight for bed, crawling under the thick sheets and immediately moving close to each other. Nesta curls her leg over Cassian’s waits, her arms sliding around his neck. Cassian pulls her closer by her hips, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder and pampering her skin with soft pecks before placing his head down on her chest. The soft beating of her heart is like music in her ears and makes his own heart swell and his chest warm.

The soft and sweet feeling of love reaches him and he knows that this is perfection. Right in this moment, he feels comfort, he feels at ease and he forgets about everything that Devlon has said. He does not have to think about it anymore. His life is here. In Velaris. With Nesta, his mate, the love of his life, his wife. Home is here. 

“My perfect, wonderful, smart and stunning mate. I love you so much.” 

Nesta smiles, one hand sliding into Cassian’s hair to pull him even closer. “I love you more,” she says against his air, kissing the lobe.

“Not possible,” Cassian murmurs, his voice muffled by Nesta’s hair. 

both have to laugh a little at that, their chest brushing and their souls warming, glowing brightly just like the bond between the two of the. The bond connecting two so different yet so similar souls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is for you @moonlightazriel . I know you love the ship and the two characters and this is just a thank you, for becoming such an amazing friend thanks to tumblr, for being there all the time and for being one of the kindest souls in this world. my rock against which the wave crashes.❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt@crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan

tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt@crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan

tags (crossed out I couldn't tag): @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan

[tadpolesonalgae]

i wanna see mor rip into az like you were saying in our last chat and see lucien and eris' reactions too. mor because i do think part of her understands that reader is hurting really badly, she attempted her own life after all. while mor is right to have her own feelings, she is generally known to be sympathetic towards hurt women. Eris because reader went to him for an escape from the NC, he was able to deduce it wasnt all sunshine and rainbows so he gave her the arrow. but he didnt know how bad it must've been that reader would turn it on herself and take it that far when she returned home. And Lucien because I think he would see Eris' niceties towards reader and see it for the older cranky brother/ younger intelligent sister relationship it is. And not even to mention Elain's own feelings on reader's attempt. I imagine that similar to cassian, lucien would take both into account before making an opinion.

headcanon that its lucien who drops the bomb on eris that reader attempted her own life with an ash arrow. 👀 eris has been shown to have a soft spot for Luc so i imagine him giving a little bit more of a genuine reaction to news like that from his lil brother? which would be fun to see, (soft eris when!?!?!?!?!?)

Idk I wanna see Luc advocate for reader and imagine the angst from like an Az POV too 👀Bc he talked sm shit ab reader and praised elain, and heres elain's mate defending reader in front of elain? Az's ego needs the hit and i think that in the right circumstance it would make him reconsider his own actions and make amends. I also think it would be a pleasant surprise for reader, to see someone she rarely interacts with still defend her. Not necessarily because he knows her but because it's the right thing to do, which would rock her world and give her a perspective change.

Elucien and Nessian in the way that you write them are really good support systems for reader rn. Elain offers her sweetness, Luc is a good advocate, Nesta is a protector, and Cass is relaxed. All things that i think reader needs rn.

It would also be a perfect way to introduce Helion 👉👈🥺

CC SPOILERS BELOW:

how do you think bryce and reader would have interacted? Im super curious to hear your thoughts as someone who wasn't into CC 👀 and how would you imagine she would react to ember and randall. (assuming the IC would let her anywhere near someone from another universe🤫)

-🤠 aka lucien's #1 defender

‘while mor is right to have her own feelings, she is generally known to be sympathetic towards hurt women.’

I feel like I’m struggling with this honestly? I feel like Mor would want to help reader because she’s obviously hurting, but then Mor is also hurting because of something reader’s chosen to do, which puts Mor in a difficult situation of grappling with her conflicting emotions? I hope chapter 18 doesn’t make Mor seem super unfeeling in one particular part 😭🫠

‘Eris because reader went to him for an escape from the NC, he was able to deduce it wasnt all sunshine and rainbows so he gave her the arrow.’

I’d lowkey like to see what Eris would do if he found out reader tried to kill herself? Especially recalling that part where he says something like ‘either do something or just lie down and die’? 😭 I can’t remember what it was exactly, but his own words kind of biting him in the ass/coming back to haunt him I imagine would be kind of funny 🫢

‘And Lucien’

WHERE DID YOU PULL LUCIEN FROM? 🔮

‘because I think he would see Eris' niceties towards reader and see it for the older cranky brother/ younger intelligent sister relationship it is.’

Ooooh this is something interesting because I’m of the mindset that Lucien still sees Eris as the rest of the IC does? That he’s so accustomed to this one view of his brother it’s difficult to see past the pain of his childhood in autumn? But I think that’s shows anyway in chapter 18 😳😭

‘And not even to mention Elain's own feelings on reader's attempt.’

Part of me wants to have more scenes where the wound is just split completely open and we get to see all the messy innards of the whole situation, but I don’t think I’m ready for a scene like that? I don’t think I’d be able to write it well?

I’m more of the position that things are sometimes better left to the imagination? Or not being touched on so directly and rather just seeing small traces and hints of it? We’ll see what happens later on in the story though when…stuff happens 😭🫣

(I forbid you from using any mystical powers to possibly guess what those events might be)

‘headcanon that its lucien who drops the bomb on eris that reader attempted her own life with an ash arrow. 👀’

I would love this, however I don’t think Elain would tell Lucien? While they’re close, they aren’t official or anything as serious as that? And also I think Elain would know how uncomfortable reader would get with more people knowing about it? But at the same time I agree that Lucien would be good and supporting kind of how Cassian does?

‘It would also be a perfect way to introduce Helion 👉👈🥺’

GIRL not more Helion 😭🤦🙄

‘how do you think bryce and reader would have interacted?’

You keep canon Bryce FAR away from my dear cbmthy reader!! Fanon Bryce though, they’d be such good girl friends 😭 despite their obvious differences of course 👀

‘and how would you imagine she would react to ember and randall. ‘

I’m going to be honest, I hardly remember anything about Ember and Randall so I can’t answer 😭 though I did read some more of CC3 a few days ago! Slowly trying to make my way through it 😭💪

‘-🤠 aka lucien's #1 defender’

I’m still so befuddled where your mind pulled Lucien from since I don’t think he’s been mentioned since part 4 😭

[ataraxiasflame]

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @zenkindoflove 💕

Even though I’ve only posted 2 fics so far, I’ve actually been writing them for years and have a few in my folder that are technically WIPs that I do still have an attachment to and want to finish, so I’ll include them here. I also have a couple of fics that I’m planning for Elucien week and don’t want to give away too many details just yet but am willing to answer questions!

ELUCIEN WIPS

1. Turning Saints into the Seas - Currently rated M but working towards E. Multi-chapter, Dual POV, Third-person; takes place post-ACOSF with Lucien taking Elain to Day to visit a Seer. Elements of forced proximity, jealousy, denial. Lucien knows about Solstice and who his daddy is. (Currently 7 chapters posted on ao3)

2. Light the Fire Bright - Elucien week AU Fic (set to be posted on 20th July). Set in an AU (but not our world for reasons), but I’m so excited to start writing this! I have so many scenes already planned. Rated M but will very likely build to E. Multi-chapter, Dual POV, Third-person. And to give at least a little bit…it will be strangers-to-friends-to-denial-to-lovers.

3. I See You in My Fireflies - This is one that I’ve been working on for a couple of years (I think I’ve written about 12 chapters). Set some time after ACOSF, after Elain has rejected her bond with Lucien. Lucien is still living in the human realm with Vassa and Jurian, when Elain shows up unexpectedly at their manor to warn Lucien of a vision she had (spoiler: it’s not a good one). Lucien discovers Elain left Night and has been living in Spring (alone) for some time. Involves the Koschei plot line and Vassa. Will be rated E, Multi-chapter, Dual POV, third-person fic. Elements of denial, Elain’s seer-abilities, more denial, angst, anger.

I have written about 12 chapters but there’s no telling when I’ll get to finishing this one though.

4. Unnamed Elucien Week Fic - I am also so excited to finish this! I have already written about 7 chapters. Rated E, Multi-chapter, Dual POV, third-person fic. This will fall into a sub-genre that I am fairly new to but I don’t recall having seen an Elucien fic with these elements (but I’m probably wrong, there are probably many), so I’m really excited to write it. This will be my most explicit challenge! What I can reveal: a curse, forced-proximity, SPICE, is Tamlin really the villain?

5. Unnamed Elucien One Shot - completed one-shot taking place on the night of Nessian Mating Ceremony. Elain sees the infamous necklace around Gwyn’s neck and it drives her to flee from the gathering. Lucien, being observant, follows. Elain takes the opportunity to give into urges she’s be fighting and denying. Rated E. Dual POV, third-person. I don’t know why I never posted this. I think I just didn’t end up liking it 😂

Feel free to ask any and all questions!

I have seen several people being tagged here and I don’t want to double down and re-tag them, so if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tagged!

[throneofsapphics]

Hey! I would loovee a part two of ‘Theirs’, maybe where reader pulls away from nessian because she doesn’t trust them (especially intimately) after what happened

And they’re just in agony but realise if they act the way they did before, they might lose her forever

I’m a sucker for angst with a happy ending😅 (if you want)

theirs part two 

Nessian x f!Reader

(part one)

Summary: Everything came crashing out, the flood gates opened. “Is there a way to fix this? I felt violated, hurt, and neither of you even bothered to ask.”

Warnings: some angst, discussions of SA/dubcon, not proofread

A/N: thank you for requesting it! sorry it took so long, this is a bit shorter and kinda went off script

The next morning, both of them acted as if nothing was wrong. Like it was another ordinary day with the events of the previous night washed clean. You couldn’t wash that fear out of your memory. Sure there was arousal present, but the entire night had not sit right with you. Still, you kept a smile on your face and kept up the pretense. Mainly because you didn’t know what else you could dol. You didn’t find your own release that night either. Maybe they didn’t know, or were trying to punish you. Either way, it didn’t matter right now. 

Cassian leaned in for a kiss as he left, he was already running late, but you turned your head, letting him leve one on your cheek. He frowned at you but didn’t time to question it as he took off. You let out a slow breath as he flew away. He hadn’t the time to question it and you planned it that way. Nesta wasn’t present either, and you know she would’ve had questions. She’d always been particularly observant. 

You tried to put up a good front, but after a week Nesta finally brought it up. 

“What’s wrong?” It was just the two of you, in the library. 

“Nothing,” you said shortly, returning your focus to your book. She snatched it from your hands, marking your page and setting it aside. 

“Talk to me.” Her words were a plea, almost begging. “You’ve barely kissed or touched either of us all week, haven’t spoken much - you’re turning into a ghost.” 

You didn’t know how to answer her, what kind of words would actually explain it. Nesta waited not-so-patiently, but she could see you were thinking and held her tongue. “That night, after Rita’s,” you spoke quietly. “Put yourself in my shoes.” 

Anything else, you might’ve burst into tears and left her to her thoughts, searching for a place you could find some peace and solace. 

You knew Nesta would speak to Cassian about it, and they’d likely try to find you after dinner - you’d taken to eating somewhere else, feigning work to do. 

Sure enough, they showed up and you ended up in one of the cozier sitting areas. 

“I thought you enjoyed it,” Nesta started. 

“My body did …” you took a few deep breaths, calming yourself. “But I didn’t feel safe.” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Cassian countered. 

“You didn’t give me a chance,” you snapped at him. 

Nesta’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry.” Out of all things, you never expected Nesta to apologize to you. Actually, you’re not certain you’ve heard those words come out of her mouth before. “How do we fix this?” 

Everything came crashing out, the flood gates opened. “Is there a way to fix this? I felt violated, hurt, and neither of you even bothered to ask.” Your breathing grew heavy, fists clenched, a tightness in your chest.” 

“A safeword.” Nesta blurted out. 

“It’s not just about sex,” you snarled, “I was having fun. FInally introducing you to my friends, and you couldn’t wait til the Gods-damned night was over before dragging me out.” 

You left the room, any longer and you might’ve said something you would truly regret. 

It took months for them to earn your trust back. So many discussions on boundaries, and you could tel they were really trying. They asked to meet your friends again, in a different setting, and you relented. If there was any jealousy, they kept it firmly under wraps. You loved them, with all of your heart, and managed to trust again, to let them back in.