#nessian bow

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {8}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

Every session with Gwyn is easier.

I’m still tense as hell when we arrive, but as Cassian and I leave our most recent appointment with her, I actually feel like we might actually be getting back on the right track.

His hand is in mine, which has been a much more common occurrence in the past few days than it had in the last year.

Gwyn knows what she’s talking about, that’s for sure. As a relationship therapist, I would really hope she’s good at what she does, but I didn’t realize just how much I missed Cassian’s touch, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.

Nothing past PG has happened, but every time he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear or takes my hand in his, my stomach does a little flip and I feel like a teenager with a crush.

Except this isn’t just a silly crush.

He’s the love of my life. I knew it, even in my darkest hour, even when we rarely spoke, even when it felt like we did not exist within the same space. I have never doubted that Cassian is the one and only man I am meant to be with, which is somehow even more terrifying than having a simple teenage crush. I wasn’t even this scared when we were engaged, when we were about to be married. Then, I felt like I had nothing to lose, there was no question about it, about us. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose. Even though things are getting better, we aren’t back to being us, and even though I feel like we’ll get there, that we’re on the right track, the fact that we’re not still leaves me scared shitless. 

“You’re quiet,” Cassian says, as he pulls us out of the parking lot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s an honest response, even though he looks unsure. “Just reflecting.”

He nods, looking both ways before pulling out onto the main street. “I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “I think we should go out tonight.”

I look at him, brow raised, instantly thinking about the last time we tried to go out a few weeks ago. “Really?”

He shrugs, fingers dancing on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’d kind of like to erase the last date we had. Thought we should try again.” Another beat of silence passes. “But, if you’re not ready, that’s fine—”

“I think that sounds nice,” I interrupt, afraid I was giving off the wrong vibes. I’m more surprised that he wanted to try date night again after I messed the last one up so badly, but he gives me a smile that I know is genuine, and slightly full of mischief, which reminds me of the old him, the one that didn’t want to leave me.

I miss him.

And even though I see glimpses of that old Cassian lately, I know he’s still holding back. 

“Good,” he says, and we spend the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence. 

We agreed we’d leave at six-thirty, which allows me two hours to respond to some emails before I have to start getting ready. While I’m in my office, Cassian’s downstairs going over a few new menu items for the restaurant. Half of my inbox is nasty emails from Eris, which tries to dampen my mood but I won’t let it. If I got pissed and upset everytime Eris told me something I don’t want to hear, I’d never feel a single ounce of joy. I send him one email as a response to all, letting him know that everything is on track and I’ll send him an update at the end of the day tomorrow. 

It’s just after five-thirty when a soft knock comes to the office door and Cassian peeks in. He’s shirtless, yet again, and I’m starting to think that he’s coming around shirtless more and more just to watch me ogle, which I do, with no shame. Especially when he’s sweating, looking like he’s just conquered a thousand pushups. “Red or blue?”

I lift a brow. “What?”

He smiles. “Red or blue?”

I snort. “Blue?” 

“Seafood or steak?”

I cock my head to the side. “Is this how you're planning our night? Twenty questions?”

His grin widens. My eyes fall to his chest, his abs, back up to his lips, then his eyes as he asks, “Seafood or steak?”

I think about it for a second. “Steak.” 

“Inside or outside?”

Thinking about the warm, clear day we’ve had, I say, “Outside.”

“I’m getting in the shower.” With a wink, he’s gone.

I decide I should probably start getting ready too and close my laptop, deciding to ignore all work related bullshit for the rest of the night. Tonight is about me and Cassian, and everything else officially doesn’t exist. 

When I enter our bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked and I can see the inside getting steamy from the shower. Gray pants and a navy blue button down are sitting on the bed. 

I’m glad I went with blue.

I grab a brush from my nightstand before sitting at my vanity and setting out what makeup I’m going to use. I need to wash my face first, and glance towards the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. Surely if he left it open, he doesn’t mind if I go in.

Right?

After debating it for far too long, I walk to the bathroom door and softly knock, nudging it open an inch or two more as I do so.

“Yeah?”

“I need to wash my face,” I say, peeking my head in.

The shower door opens just a bit and out pops his arm, my bottle of face wash in his hand.

I take the bottle, doing my best not to look at the expanse of toned skin and dark ink on display, but failing miserably.

Gods, he’s mouthwatering.

Heading straight for the sink, I turn it on and wet my face. As I squeeze a good amount of the product onto my fingers and form a lather, I clear my throat. “So is our game of twenty questions over or will there be more?”

Cassian chuckles and the sound makes my nipples tighten. A husky laugh shouldn’t undo me so easily, but gods, it’s been so long. “There are a few more,” he says, as I scrub. “But I was going to wait until we were on the way to ask.”

After rinsing my face and drying it off with a hand towel, I turn to lean against the bathroom counter. “And if I have one for you?”

The water shuts off and the bathroom becomes unnervingly quiet for a moment as Cassian towels off. The shower door opens and he’s once again wearing nothing but that towel slung low on his hips. The well defined muscles leading down into the towel may as well be an arrow pointing at his cock because it’s all I can focus on.

“Nesta?”

Right, I said I was going to ask him a question.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Legs or breasts?”

The only sound is the shower head slowly dripping water onto the tile floor. Cassian blinks, likely making sure he heard me right. “What?”

“Legs or breasts,” I repeat, heading for my closet.

“Are we going to KFC on the way home?” He asks, shaking his head.

I can’t help my own laugh as I look at him. “Just pick one, you ass.”

“Breasts.” His eyes are focused on my face, trying his hardest not to let his gaze dip to the aforementioned part of my body.

“Okay,” I smirk, stepping into my closet.

I can still feel him watching me as I disappear into my chaos of clothing, searching for a dress that shows off my best assets. A few come to mind, but there’s one in particular that I’m hoping to dig out for tonight’s occasion. It takes me a minute to find it, and when I take it out of the closet, my face now clean, Cassian’s still standing there in the bathroom, that fucking towel still barely hiding all that’s beneath. 

I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Without warning, if I just grabbed his face and kissed him, I wonder how he would react. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to kiss your own husband, but I am. His eyes dart to the dress that’s hanging on the hanger in my hand. His eyes darken. He knows exactly what dress this is. 

“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” I say, as I go by him, into the bedroom. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are on my ass.

They snap up to mine and he clears his throat. I try to ignore the fact that I can see something happening beneath that towel of his, even though it causes a longing throughout my body that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “Sounds good. Yeah, me too.”

I leave him in the bathroom and sit at my vanity, getting to work on my appearance. Cassian’s voice comes from the bathroom. “Twenty questions — clean shave or no?”

I laugh quietly to myself. I like this little game we’re playing. As I dab on my foundation, I say, “Keep the scruff.” 

He comes out a few minutes later, his long, wavy hair brushed and dried and loose above his shoulders. He notices me looking and smiles as he takes his clothes off the bed and goes back to the bathroom. I suddenly realize how much I wanted him to drop that towel, right here, right now.

I focus on my eyeshadow. 

Once I’m done with my makeup, I brush through my hair and add a few more curls since some had fallen loose before spraying it. 

I’m halfway into my dress when the bathroom door opens again, and Cassian is dressed to perfection. He smells phenomenal, like my favorite cologne. When he sees me, he stops.

“Perfect timing,” I say, although I find it hard to find my voice. “Help me zip?”

I turn around and move my hair out of the way. For a moment, he doesn’t come, but then he’s moving toward me, silently. 

He finds the zipper that’s just above my waist, and my breath catches as his fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. He takes his time, and every time his fingers make contact with my skin, an ache that’s newly been awakened throbs between my thighs. 

I never thought zipping up my dress would be erotic. I was wrong.

“Ready?” He asks, hands still lingering on my waist.

Ready to throw you down on the bed and say to hell with our date.

I smile at him in the mirror and shake my head. “Almost.”

He steps back, letting me cross the room to my jewelry box. I retrieve a necklace he gave me for our anniversary a few years back. I don’t wear it often, despite loving it, because of the length of the chain. The diamond pendant fell right between breast and as I fluff my hair out around me, I turn and face my husband.

“Now I’m ready,” I say and I don’t know why I sound so breathless.

Okay, I do. If Cassian’s gaze could set something on fire, my dress would be ashes.

Silently, he holds out his hand. I take it, loving the feel of his rough callouses against my skin. I don’t let myself think about how those hands feel on other parts of my body, despite it having been months since I felt them.

Once downstairs, he swipes his keys and wallet, and then we’re headed to the restaurant.

He takes me to one of the best steakhouses in Velaris and we sit on the roof, where string lights and live music surrounds our candlelit table. The conversation is easy, nothing is forced, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

We talk about our most memorable dates, once Cassian mentioned that one time we skipped a group date because we saw a new taco stand on the way and ate there instead, just the two of us. We sat on the steps of the art museum, dressed in some of our finest, eating a heap of messy tacos. That had been about eight years ago, and I hadn’t realized just how much time has passed between the two of us.

Nearly ten years of marriage.

A decade since we swore our lives to one another.

And I almost let it all go. Looking at my husband across the table, I don’t know how I could have ever been so foolish, so selfish.

He sees me watching him and smiles, setting his fork down, his plate now cleared. I take a sip of my wine. He refills it once it’s almost empty, until the bottle that the waiter left us is almost gone.

After calling for the check, Cassian looks up at me. “Should we head home or walk around for a bit?”

I set down my empty wine glass. “Is this a part of twenty questions?”

He chuckles. “I haven’t exceeded twenty questions yet?”

I shake my head.

“Then yes,” he says, quietly, the toe of his boot nudging the toe of my stiletto. 

“A little walk sounds nice,” I say, afraid that when we get back home we’ll fall back into our polite small talk. Small talk isn’t bad, but this easy conversation we’ve had between us today… I like it.

We walk along the Sidra, the warm, clear day making way for a beautiful night, and I listen as Cassian regales me with tales of a new chef at the restaurant. She’s young and has never had an official kitchen job before, only graduating from culinary school the year before. I glance over at him, with lips pursed. He usually isn’t willing to put his restaurant’s reputation on the line like that. His chefs and sous chefs all have long lists of accomplishments and recognition, upholding the notoriety he’s earned.

We walk on, pausing at an ice cream stand to get to two cones.

“What?”

I look over at him and he’s already watching me as we walk.

I repeat his question. “What?”

He reached out and skims a thumb over my brow. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

I push him away, rolling my eyes, but he catches my hand and we’re heading back towards the car.

“What’s on your mind, Nes?” He pushes, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand.

For a brief second, I consider lying to him. I could tell him it’s nothing, tell him there really isn’t anything on my mind. But we haven’t gone through four weeks of marriage counseling for nothing.

“I just… This new girl, Emerie,” I start, hoping he doesn’t see my question as a sign of jealousy. “What exactly made you bring her on? She’s pretty green, as far as your assistant chefs go.”

I don’t think there’s any nefarious reasoning behind his hiring her. I just don’t understand his sudden change in pace.

He’s quiet a minute, which only makes my nerves ratchet higher. When he finally speaks, his words are low, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the city around us. “She’s from the same small town as I am. Similar upbringing, no dad, single mom that worked way too much.”

My heart fractured a bit inside my chest.

I stop, tugging on his hand to make him stop, too. I look at him. Really look at him. My husband is a damn good man. I’ve always known it, and I know that he’s proud of his past, although a lot of it is tragic. He loved his mother, before she passed, considering she had raised him on her own and fought tooth and nail for everything they had. It would make sense he would be sympathetic for someone of a very similar life. 

When it’s clear I’m not saying anything, because I truly cannot find the words, his brows furrow. Before he can ask me what’s wrong, I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his cheek. He inhales, as if he’s shocked, and I let the kiss linger against his warm, stubbled cheek. Our hands remain clasped together and when I lean back, his eyes are searching mine.

“You’re a good man,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And a good boss.”

He swallows, but he nods as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

I want to yank his mouth down to mine, but this moment is cherished and I don’t want to overstep, don’t want to ruin what we’ve built here. I give him a smile and we resume our walk. 

I make a note to stop by the restaurant this week and meet Emerie as we find our way back to the truck. Cassian helps me inside the cab and his hand lingers on mine, even after I’ve sat, before he closes the door and finds his way behind the wheel. 

We listen to music on the way home and he makes me laugh when he sings along to some nineties R&B song that definitely should’ve been left in the nineties. He catches me watching him on more than one occasion, and his smile softens every time he does. 

When we’ve made it home and witnessed Greg sprawled out next to the fruit bowl on the island, Cassian says, “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Yeah,” I say, setting my clutch on the counter. “It was a good night.”

He nods, and for a moment we just stand in the silence, staring at one another. He’s the one to break it.

“I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow,” he says, but he’s stepped closer to me. “I should get ready for bed.”

“Right.” I clear my throat, not sure what to say, as I edge around the island, closer to him. “I have to go in early, too.”

Meetings with my manager and the publishing company start tomorrow. I have no idea where the future of my books are with this company, but they have to understand that I can’t keep putting out the same volume of content out. Not if I have any hope of salvaging my marriage.

He sets his keys in the center of the island, which puts him right in front of me. Staring up at him, I watch as his eyes dip down to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I…kiss you?”

I nod, not trusting my voice, holding my breath. He leans in and my eyes fall closed.

After a second, his lips press against mine and I’m lost. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me. I’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how heady his cologne made me feel, the feel of his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I melt into him, losing myself in the feel of his kiss, clinging to his shirt with both hands.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are bright and he’s breathing heavily. I want to pull his face back to mine, want to grab him and drag him upstairs with me.

But Gwyn told us to hold off on sex.

Reaching up, I caress his stubbled cheek. “We should get to bed.”

He nods and swallows, not making a move to let me go any more than I’m making a move to let him go. I can tell his self control is on a short leash, just as mine is. So I step back and make my way upstairs.

He’s just behind me.

When we’ve reached our bedroom, Cassian quickly brushes his teeth before getting a pair of sweatpants. I’m watching him on the bed the entire time, suddenly not trusting myself to be too close to him. Before he leaves to go downstairs, he kisses my forehead, quickly. “Night, Nes.”

“Goodnight,” I say, but barely anything is audible as the word leaves my mouth. He leaves, and I feel empty once I’m alone. 

After stripping out of my dress and pulling on an old t-shirt, I wash my face and brush my teeth, and bury myself beneath the blankets of our bed. I miss Cassian sleeping next to me. Tonight, more than ever, the bed feels lonely. 

My heart is racing and I’m not tired in the slightest, despite the fact that I know I need to go to bed. I need to be well rested to deal with Eris’ shit in the morning.

But I can’t stop thinking about my husband, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I wonder if he wants to come up here, wants to climb into bed with me, wants to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

I want his body pressed up against me.

I want to feel his skin on mine.

Fuck, the throbbing between my thighs is unbearable. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to run downstairs and have him touch me, taste me, fuck me until I can’t think straight. I’m not thinking straight now, I’m too horny, too needy.

It’s been too damn long.

But Gwyn is right. Nothing should be rushed. We need to wait until we’re good again, until we’re back to being Nesta and Cassian.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t sleep in his own bed, though.

Sex may be off the table, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t share the same bed.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed before I can think better of it. The house is quiet as I make my way to the door and push it open. Everything’s dark, and I try to be as quiet as possible as I make my way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stop, making out Cassian’s massive figure on the couch. There’s no way he’s comfortable. Half of him is nearly hanging off of it. 

But he’s asleep.

At least, I think he’s asleep. The living room is dark, silent. He’s not moving. I think about walking down the stairs anyway, to brush his hair off his face and ask if he wants to join me, but I can’t seem to convince my feet to move. If he’s already asleep, he’s apparently not having the same internal crisis that I am. 

Silently, I turn around and go back to bed, careful not to make any noise, careful not to wake him. 

When I’m back beneath the blankets, I slip my hand beneath my panties and rub one out until that throbbing ache between my thighs is no more. 

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {9}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

“Shit, bud. Calm down.”

Nyx is flailing around recklessly in his booster seat, his seatbelt stuck. As soon as the words leave my mouth, he gasps.

“That’s naughty, uncle Cass,” he says, as I lean over him and rattle the seatbelt for a second, getting it unstuck and breaking him free. He hops out of the truck and I grab his backpack.

“What’s naughty?”

“Bad words.” He leads us into the kitchen from the garage and Greg instantly greets him. Nyx is the only human that Greg truly likes. “Hi, Greggy.”

“They’re only naughty if you say them,” I assure him, dropping his backpack onto the kitchen table.

“Aunt Nesta!” Nyx’s little voice rings through the house.

“She’s not home, buddy,” I say, throwing him over my shoulder and carrying him into the living room.

He repeatedly hits me in the back as he giggles. “Where is she?”

“Yoga,” I say, and Nyx repeats the word with confusion. “Exercising,” I simplify. “Aunt Elain dragged her to a yoga class to help her with her body aches from carrying your new cousin.”

“Does having a baby hurt, uncle Cass?”

“I don’t think it feels too good, bud.”

“How did Aunt Lainy get a baby in her belly?”

I drop Nyx on the couch and cross my arms, trying not to laugh at his curiosity. Answering that question is beyond my pay grade. “Ask your dad.”

“But—”

“Ask your dad.” 

He sighs. “Fine. I’m hungry.”

Of course he is. He’s always hungry. “Chicken nuggets or mac and cheese?” 

He frowns. “Why can’t I have both?”

Both it is. 

I may be a critically acclaimed chef, but even I can’t help but heed the call of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

“Uncle Cass?” Nyx asks, while I’m walking toward the kitchen.

“Hmm?”

“Why is your pillow on the couch?” His question makes me stop to look back at him. Sure enough, he has my pillow on his lap and is beating the shit out of it. “That’s a bed pillow. It goes on your bed.”

It should be on my bed.

For the last few nights, since our date, I’ve debated on going up to bed. Every night, I’m tempted, and every night I think that it’s the night I’m finally going to take that step, but Nesta has never mentioned it and she’s the one that said one of us should be sleeping on the couch once I came back home.

Things have been going so well between us that I’m scared I’m going to do something to ruin it, like climb into bed with her in the middle of the night when she doesn’t want me there. 

“I slept on the couch last night,” I say, slowly, “because aunt Nesta was snoring too loud.”

Nyx giggles and starts fake snoring loudly and obnoxiously. “Like that?”

“Exactly. She was keeping me awake.”

As I walk into the kitchen and get a pot out the cupboard, Nyx says, “Is sleeping on the couch comfy? You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”

I snort and the pain in my lower back seems to be agreeing with my nephew. I remember being twenty and able to sleep in whatever position, wherever, and not feeling a damn thing. Now, after sleeping on the narrow as fuck couch, I wake up every morning with aches and pains I didn’t think were possible after an eight hour sleep. 

Half an hour later, Nesta walks through the door as me and Nyx are downing chicken nuggets and macaroni, and she barely says hi before Nyx says, “Uncle Cass is too old and big to be sleeping on the couch, Aunt Nesta, so you need to stop snoring.”

Her eyes go wide and she looks from him to me and I hope she can still read my face as well as she used to. 

She turns back to our nephew, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and asks, “Is that why he said he was sleeping on the couch?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding animatedly. I’m fairly sure that the last bite he had was more ketchup than it was nugget, based on the amount on his face. “He said it was cause you were snoring like this.”

He then replicates his fake snore from earlier, embellishing his snorts just as well as he had before.

Her eyebrows raise and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Her jaw clenches and I think every bit of progress we’ve made is about to be gone in an instant.

But then her lips twitch.

I exhale, the relieved breath I’ve been holding whooshing out quietly as Nesta hums. “That’s funny, because I recall making him sleep on the couch because he was the one snoring.”

With the most dramatic of gasps, Nyx turns to face me. “You were the one snoring, Uncle Cass?”

My wince is fake, but he can’t tell that. “Only a little bit. Hers were louder.”

Scooping up a bite of macaroni, he says, “Mama snores, but daddy said I’m not allowed to say anything about it.”

I watch in wonderment as Nesta throws her head back and laughs. “Your mama does snore, and your daddy is very smart for keeping that to himself.”

Nyx grins as if he had just said the world’s best joke.

Nesta catches me watching her and her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. 

“How was yoga?”

“Good,” she says, setting her back down next to the island. “I haven’t done it in so long, but I feel amazing.” 

I’m about to say good, that I’m glad she had such a nice time, but then she reaches down to my plate and grabs a chicken nugget before popping it into her mouth. I gasp and turn to the toddler stuffing his face beside me. “Did she just steal one of my nuggets?”

Nyx shakes his head and says, “You better get her, Uncle Cass.” He shoves a spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “She needs to go to timeout.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at Nesta, who is smiling as she chews, looking ridiculously gorgeous and humored. “You. Time out. Now. Nose in the corner for five minutes.” 

That brow lifts, once more. “Is that a demand?”

Her voice has a sultry quality I haven’t heard in months.

“Hell yeah it is,” I murmur, and Nesta’s eyes brighten. Nyx is too busy stuffing his face to call me out for my curse or notice what’s happening. At least until I say my next words. “Unless you want to take us for ice cream instead.” 

Nyx’s spoon clatters onto his plate as he drops it to clap. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” 

Nesta pretends to think on it for a minute. “Finish everything on your plate, then I guess we can get ice cream.” 

Nyx jumps up in his chair with a celebratory screech before sitting back down to finish his dinner in record time. 

True to her word, after going to change out of her yoga clothes, Nesta returns a few minutes later, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan, with her hair pulled back off of her face. She grabs her purse off the counter and asks, “Ready to go?”

Nyx is up and heading for the garage before I can react, but even so, I’m glued in place.

She is so, so beautiful.

Turning for the back door, Nesta notices I haven’t moved. She glances back at me. “What?”

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I approach her, pausing in front of her. “Nothing, just…” I reach out and run my hand down the length of her sleek ponytail, tugging lightly when I reach the end. I don’t let myself notice the slight catch in her breath as I do so. “Appreciating how gorgeous you are.”

Her eyes, so often full of storms, are calm today and they soften, as she looks at me.

“Can I kiss you?” I whisper, still not wanting to push her past her comfort zone yet.

She nods, rising up on her toes and closes the distance between us before I even have the chance.

My hands cup her face, tilting her head just right so I can slant my mouth over hers. Her fingers are clinging to my shirt and I break the kiss before it can become anything our nephew shouldn’t see.

“Come on,” I say, lacing her fingers in mine and heading for the back door. “You promised ice cream and you’re going to have to deliver.”

One of my favorite things about having a nephew is having the ability to load him up on sugar and then give him back to my brother.

By the time we’re pulling into Rhys and Feyre’s driveway, Nyx is bouncing in his carseat, singing the national anthem of Velaris at the top of his lungs for the fifth time. Apparently he’s been practicing it at school, and I’m impressed considering he only messes up about half the words.

Nesta finds it hilarious.

I keep sneaking glances over at her as she laughs in the passenger seat. 

Rhys opens the door when I ring the doorbell and Nyx runs past him, into the house, giggling as he continues singing. He doesn’t even move, my brother, as his toddler runs through the house. He just sighs and looks at me. “Ice cream?”

“Blame Nesta.”

I think he’s about to scold me, but then he cocks his head. “You seem happy. Doing good?”

I nod, slowly. “Yeah. I am. We are, I think.”

Even through his exhaustion, he smiles. “Good.” From somewhere in the distance, there’s a crash. 

Then, Nyx yelling, “Daddy? Uh… I tried to get juice.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I have to mop up some juice,” Rhys says, clapping me on the shoulder before telling me he’ll call me later. 

When I make it back to the truck, Nesta’s watching me. “That’s going to be fun putting to bed.”

“Considering it’s already ten minutes past bedtime? Yeah, Rhys is going to be thanking us.”

She chuckles and gets comfortable as I back out of the driveway. The ride is quiet for a moment, nothing uncomfortable, but as I stop at a redlight I can feel her watching me. I turn to meet her gaze as the truck comes to a stop. “You alright?” She nods, but she��s sucking on her bottom lip. I frown. “Nes, we have to be honest with each other, if you’re not alright—”

“I’m fine,” she says, quietly. The light turns green. “I’ve just been thinking.”

The words leave her slowly and an uneasy feeling creeps into the pit of my stomach. “Okay. About what?”

“You,” she says, quietly. “Sleeping on the couch.” 

I shrug, doing my best not get my hopes up. “Not a big deal.”

“I disagree,” she says, turning in her seat to face me.

This is something I’ve noticed her doing for the past few weeks. She’s giving me her full attention, letting me know that I’m her priority right now.

“Nyx won’t say anything to Rhys and Feyre,” I promise her, assuming she’s worried about what her sister will say. “And even if he does, I’m sure they could guess I’ve been sleeping on the couch—”

“I don’t care what Rhys and Feyre think.” She cuts me off and I let her, snapping my mouth shut. “I don’t care what anyone else, save for Gwyn, thinks about what takes place in our marriage. I… I’ve been thinking you should come back to bed.”

“Tonight?” I ask, turning onto our street, glancing  over at her. I want to make sure she’s serious, that she’s not just saying this because she thinks it’s what she should do since Nyx found out.

“Tonight,” she agrees, then adds, “and tomorrow night, and the night after that, depending how things go.”

I pull into our driveway and into the garage, parking next to her car, but neither of us make a move to get out. My next question could damn me, but I can’t stop myself from asking.  “And how do you want things to go?” Immediately, Nesta’s back goes rigid and I reach out, taking her hand and smoothing my thumb over the back of it. “I’m not asking to have sex, Nes, I just want to know what exactly you’re expecting.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.” Opening her eyes, she gives me a soft smile. “But I miss having you sleeping next to me. I miss falling asleep in your arms and waking up with you curled around me. I even miss your snoring.”

I feign being appalled. “My snoring?”

“Yeah, contrary to what you told our nephew, you’re the only one that snores in this relationship,” she says, laughing quietly. 

“What can I say?” I ask, quietly, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between us and kiss her. “I’m not perfect.”

She rolls her eyes and tells me to get out of the truck. We go inside and I grab my pillow off the couch after I lock up and make my way upstairs. 

When I enter, Nesta’s standing in her bra, pulling an old t-shirt out of her drawer. It takes me a second to realize I’m staring, then I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry.”

She laughs, quietly. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before, Cass.”

Taking that as permission, I look back up, but she’s pulled the t-shirt on. It’s one of mine, one I haven’t worn in years, one that she had claimed long ago. It’s long enough on her that when she starts shimmying out of her jeans, I don’t see anything, it’s all hidden. 

“True,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say. To confess that it’s different now, that everything is different now, probably wouldn’t help the situation. I don’t want to start a fight right when I’m about to climb into my own damn bed for the first time in over a month. 

Her smile doesn’t fade as she goes into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. I pull off my shirt and search through my drawers for a clean pair of sweatpants, which I kick off my jeans to pull on. 

Greg hops onto the bed, the bell on his collar jingling merrily as he makes himself comfortable on Nesta’s pillow. As much as I love our cat, I’m not interested in having him squeezed between us like the furry toddler he is the first night I’m allowed back in my own bed.

Without a word, I round to her side of the bed, picking Greg up. He gives me an inquisitive trill as I carry him towards the bedroom door, which turns into a noise of outrage as I chuck him out into the hall and pull the door shut as he lands on his feet.

Nesta comes out of the bathroom, chuckling. “What was that?”

I turn around to make a snarky remark about Greg’s sass, but I come up short. 

In nothing but that damn old shirt, Nesta’s pulling her hair back into a ponytail. With her arms raised, the hem of the shirt slides up her thighs. I can’t help my eyes as they graze her body, can’t help how slowly they trail from her bare legs, to the curves of her breasts that I can make out through the thin fabric now that her bra has been long forgotten, up to her cleansed face, which I admire in all her natural beauty. 

Needing to get under a blanket before she sees just how much the sight of her is affecting me, I round to my side of the bed, my arm brushing hers as I pass her, and get beneath the comforter.

I watch her still as she goes to turn off the light, then she makes her way to her side of the bed and gets in.

There.

We’ve done it.

Hurdle crossed. 

Except now I want to throw my body on top of hers and rip off that t-shirt. But I don’t, because she told me she wasn’t ready, and I respect that. 

But she did say that she wants to be held.

When I turn to her, she’s already facing me, already watching me.

“This is nice,” she whispers.

“I feel like you’re too far away,” I whisper back.

She huffs a laugh as she comes closer to me, until her forehead is against my chest and her arm is sliding around my waist.

“Better?”

I pull her on top of me, and she melts right into me as she always had, her body knowing exactly where to go to get comfortable. Her cheek is against my shoulder and my arms stay around her, tightly, protectively. Her knee is just above my cock, which is too hard for me to be thinking straight, but I like that her leg is slung over me, so I close my eyes and think of sick puppies and death.

“Better now,” I say, quietly, and her hand, which is lying on my bare chest, starts moving, her fingers moving in lazy circles across my skin, tracing the ink there. 

“Better now,” she agrees, and kisses the base of my neck.

The simple touch has my skin feeling like it’s on fire, and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. 

This feels good.

Right.

Torturous.

But right.

My arm is wrapped around her, tucking her against me, my hand pressed against her lower back. I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin t-shirt and I let my fingers move as indolently as hers do.

I don’t mean to, but before I know it, my fingers are skimming over the bare skin of her back, the thin fabric of the shirt bunched up.

“Sorry,” I mutter into the darkness, trying to smooth her shirt back down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, Cass,” she whispers, breath skating over my skin. “Gwyn said physical touch was good.”

Yeah, she did, but my dick is so hard and I’m wound so tight that if Nesta all but touches it, I’m going to blow.

Dead puppies. Well done steak. Naked grandmothers.

I repeat the mantra in my head until all the blood in my body isn’t being redirected south and I can breathe without feeling like my skin is stretched too tight.

When I glance down at Nesta, I find that she’s already looking at me, a smirk on her beautiful face. “You good?”

That smirk makes me want to roll on top of her, claim that wicked mouth in a kiss that I’d trail down her body until I reached the hem of my old shirt, tugging it up to reveal—

Closing my eyes, I drag my free hand down my face. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Her soft laughter ruffles my hair and she presses another kiss to my skin, just above my collarbone. “Go to sleep.”

With another deep breath, I pull her closer against me and settle into the pillows, listening as her breathing evens out.

When I’m sure she’s well and truly asleep, I press my lips to her forehead, breathing in her honey and lilac scent, and whisper, “Goodnight, Nesta. I love you.”

I swear her body relaxes further in my arms.

[achaotichuman]

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

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

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

[tsunami-of-tears]

Subtle

Azriel x Reader, Nesta x Reader, Nessian

Summary: Reader and Nesta have a crush on each other but aren’t sure if they should make a move.

A/N: WHY DO I KEEP MAKING CASSIAN SUCH A SUB??  I’m getting so hyped for poly!+ ACOTAR week!! I have so many drafts on the go rn

Wordcount: 1.2K

Warnings: Female Reader; Mostly fluff; Slightly sexual themes; Mention of cuck!Cassian (he’s so hot for that); Poly! relationship

Sharing their bed was nothing new to Cassian and Nesta, often inviting both males and females to join them. 

Cassian didn’t often get jealous, in fact - he quite enjoyed when Nesta would seek out other males. The only rule was that he wanted to watch.

Cassian was willing to give Nesta her privacy when it came to females. He understood that it was a different kind of intimacy. On occasion, Nesta would allow an audience. If Cassian was lucky, he’d be invited to join in. 

The couple were getting ready to head out to Rita’s with the rest of the Inner Circle. There was nothing out of the ordinary about tonight, except for Nesta’s growing feelings for their friend, Y/N. 

Nesta pauses in front of the mirror, trying to calm her racing mind. Her hair was styled in her signature coronet, and her sleek black dress perfectly hugged her figure.

Cassian walks up behind Nesta, admiring his mate as he slides his arms around her waist and kisses her tenderly on the cheek. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“I’m nervous about tonight. About seeing Y/N,” She admits. 

Cassian gives Nesta a small, reassuring smile, moving his hands to rest on her hips. “I wondered when this was going to come up. I noticed your affection towards her has grown. I just want you to be happy, my love.”

Nesta turns in Cassian’s arms to face him. “I know,” She says. “But I can’t tell if she feels the same. And I have no idea if Az will be okay with it.”

Cassian ponders her statement. “Do you want me to try broaching the topic with him?” He asks. 

“I know it’s not your strong suit, but please try and be subtle. I don’t want to ruin things between us.” 

“Sweetheart, subtle is my middle name,” Cassian grins widely. 

————

At Rita’s, Cassian, Azriel and Rhys are sat at their signature booth with glasses of whiskey in hand. The females are off dancing together; Mor with Feyre, and Nesta with Y/N.

Y/N throws her head back at something Nesta says, her melodic laughter barely heard over the music. The pair hold hands and spin around together, completely ignorant of the people around them.

Cassian watches his mate and her friend with a small smile. He would give anything to make Nesta happy. He takes a big sip of his drink before inclining his head towards Azriel. “Has Y/N ever expressed interest in females before?”

Rhys eyes his brothers, opting to stay quiet and see where this conversation is going. Azriel smirks and arches a brow. “Huh, why do you want to know that?” He asks.

Cassian shrugs, failing at his attempt to seem casual. “I was just wondering,” He says cooly. 

“That’s a funny thing to wonder about my mate,” Azriel goads, “I’d ask the same about yours, but we both know the answer to that question.”

Rhys coughs, raising his hand to his mouth to keep his drink from spraying across the table.

Cassian sighs, “You know you’re a prick, right?”

“You can tell Nesta to make her move,” Azriel says with a wink.

————

Y/N extends a hand, bowing to Nesta as a slow ballad starts to play throughout the hall. “Will you join me for this dance, milady?” She asks, each word laced with giggles now that the faewine has taken effect. 

Nesta takes her hand, bowing in return. “I would be delighted,” she replies. 

They both smile as they hold each other in a close embrace, swaying to the music. At this proximity, Y/N can’t avoid looking into Nesta’s eyes, and she risks a glance down to her lips. 

Only for a second, but long enough that Nesta caught it. 

Nesta’s lips curl upwards slightly and she tilts her head closer to Y/N’s.

“You don’t have to be shy with me,” Nesta murmurs as her gaze drops to Y/N’s mouth. Rather than quickly averting her eyes, Nesta lingers, taking in the soft curves - wondering how they’ll feel, what they’ll taste like. 

Y/N’s heart pounds and the music fades into a dull roar as she stands still in her embrace with Nesta. The moment she’d thought about since the two first met was finally reality. 

Their bodies fit together even better than Y/N had dreamed. They move in time, close enough to feel the others’ breath on their face. 

Just a little bit more, that’s all it would take to close that gap, and maybe ruin their friendship. 

Y/N doesn’t have to decide as Nesta chooses for her. She surges forward, pressing her soft lips to Y/N’s in a sweet kiss. 

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make Y/N’s blood heat.

They part, breathing unevenly, Y/N bites her lower lip as she looks up into Nesta’s steel-blue eyes. “Do it again,” Y/N pants. 

Nesta gently holds Y/N’s cheek as their lips meet again. It’s tender and unhurried, but it’s clear that Nesta is the one in control. Her tongue slips between Y/N’s lips, exploring and claiming her mouth. 

They part for air, resting forehead against forehead and continue to sway to the music. They both smile shyly, cheeks flushed pink, not noticing anyone but each other. 

They dance for a few more songs together before heading back to their booth for a drink. Azriel wraps his arm around Y/N as she slips into the seat beside him. 

Y/N blushes furiously as a rather pleased-looking Nesta takes the seat opposite her, next to Cassian. 

Cassian uses the bond to speak to Nesta, ‘That wasn’t exactly subtle.’

Nesta replies with the mental image of her making a vulgar gesture. 

————

After calling it a night, Y/N heads home with Azriel, walking hand in hand along the Sidra. 

They stop at the end of the Rainbow, admiring the display of colours. Azriel takes Y/N’s other hand and kisses her lovingly. “Did you have fun tonight, my love?” Azriel asks, his lips curled into a soft small. 

Y/N grips his hands tighter as she blushes again, and looks down at their feet. She had been harbouring feelings for Nesta from the moment they met. Azriel picked up on them fairly quickly through the bond. Though Y/N did her best to hide them, she couldn’t cover up just how alive the female made her feel. 

Azriel gently lifts her chin so their eyes meet. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear before running his thumb over her cheek. “No need to be shy, my love. You already had my blessing. I am happy for you.”

Y/N looks up at her mate with wide eyes, silver tears threatening to spill over the edge. “Are you sure?” She asks.

“Of course,” Azriel kisses her softly, “If Nesta brings you more happiness, how can I deny you that? And besides, this” —he points at her chest, over her heart— “has so much love in it. There’s not any less for me if you give some to Nesta as well.” 

Y/N wraps her arms tightly around Azriel, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the firmness of his body in her arms. “I love you so much.” She murmurs into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Azriel says, kissing the top of her head. 

[jmoonjones]

Nessian Week Day 4: AU

I turned Nesta and Cassian into kitties, but then got carried away and made everyone else into a kitteh too

The Valkyries got little white bows, Amren is most likely to bite, and the shadowbabies became shadowkittens 🖤

[silverflameataraxia]

People try to shut down criticism of Cassian by saying "Just let Nesta be happy!" Does she look happy?

Rhysand loomed like a roiling storm in the center of the room. Even the fire seemed to cringe from him. Nesta stood a few feet away, blue-gray eyes wary - no hint of that silver flame. She clenched her hands, but her face was nearly vacant. The handsome, broad-shouldered male at her side was thin-lipped with concern - or anger. Maybe both.

"And where is she going now?" Azriel asked with soft venom. "Now that she has the Mask" - a withering glare at Nesta, whose face was carefully blank - "where is Bryce going?"

Nesta's mate shifted an inch closer to her, his eyes darting between the two of them, torn. Like he didn't know who to side with in the brewing fight. "I'm fine, Cassian," Nesta muttered.

"In a way," Nesta said, waving a slender hand. "It reports to me. This is my home." She sounded thin, brittle. After the verbal lashing she'd taken in the stud...

Nesta had that look, too. Like she was processing a lot of things.

Ember and Randall had just sat down for breakfast in the dining room - guided there by a silent Azriel - when Rhysand landed on the veranda beyond the glass doors. His vast wings were like storm clouds in the morning light. A heartbeat later, Cassian landed, Nesta in his arms. Both looking stone-faced. Pissed.

Rhysand snarled something that had Nesta's shoulders tensing, her head bowing.

"Don't worry," Nesta said, even if that bruised look lingered in her eyes. "My sister- Rhys's mate - gave him that exact same lecture twenty minutes ago."

The pain in her eyes - the guilt - seemed to deepen. "Cassian's the most furious with me of anyone." A muscle ticked in her jaw. Like she was holding back a giant wave of raw emotion. Only a wall of steel kept it at bay.

HOFAS made it clear that Nesta is not in a good place. Nessian is not in a good place. It's okay to acknowledge that and still ship them. Personally, I think this will be used to fuel Nesta's story arc in ACOTAR 5. Hopefully next book will contain a Cassian redemption, where he steps up and puts his mate's protection and feelings before all else. And I do believe this will happen because I do believe that Nesta and Cassian will end up in the Dusk Court, not the Night Court. I do think he'll choose her, but he may need to lose her for a time before he understands that he has to make that choice.

[acourtofthought]

Lucien as a Mate

"Where is he keeping her"

"Tell me anyway. List all of them."

"I need to find her"

His own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

"I'm a mated male now"

"I'm going with you." "I'm getting my mate back"

"Tell me about her - about Elain."

"What of - Elain?"

From the devastation on his face, I knew he'd heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

"Is...is there anything I can get you?"

I'd never heard my friend's voice so soft. So tentative and concerned.

"There's a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?:

But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen."

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"She needs fresh air"

"Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two."

"It wasn't just about what he thought - it was the...feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And...sorrow. Longing."

"Let me do something. About Elain."

"I think she went through something terrible. And it wouldn't hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination."

"Please tell me, what the healer says. And if - if you need me for anything."

"I'm sorry." "It - it was a tug. On the bond."

"I'm sorry - if that unsettled you."

"There's a bond - it's a real thread."

"No - I didn't have time. I felt her, but..." A blush stained his cheeks.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he'd never seen her before.

He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. "I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but..."

Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realized - to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye - the longing and sadness."

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little. "Are you hurt?"

"I heard - what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you."

""I heard you made the killing blow."

"He was a good man, "he loved you all very much."

"It would be my pleasure."

Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain's side.

"How is she?"

"But is she still..." "Does she still mourn him?

"The pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

You know what I love about Lucien's character?

We know he's experienced. We know he's an Autumn Court male with fire in his blood which is supposed to make them exceptional in the bedroom. And we know he's drawn to Elain on a very physical level.

But instead of SJM taking him the same route as say, Cassian with Nesta ("He tried not to think of what that hand would feel like on other parts of him. Gripping him: stroking him"), SJM turns Lucien's POV of Elain into something utterly romantic (her eyes were the brown of the fawn's coat, she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen, trying to keep from shuddering when she merely says his name, showing restraint as he reels in any thoughts of touching her or tasting her). He's struggling with guilt over Jesminda yet he still can't help his poetic thoughts of Elain.

I think the physicality of Nessian's POV worked for them (though it's important to remember that Cassian also noted on multiple occasions that it was Nesta's cunning mind at work that really drew him in, not just the physical)

But Elucien to me will read as deeply passionate, where Lucien will refuse to admit his darkest desires, the things he wants to do to Elain and she to him until he's won her heart.

[gwandas]

Yet another Ember and Randall bonus chapter rant because I'm still mad that the first glimpse of post-ACOSF Nessian mates was... THAT

Nesta folding immediately after Bryce gave her a little sob story about humans is the most in character thing she could’ve done in that moment. No, it was not ooc for her to give up the Mask—just because Rhys kneeled to her at the end of ACOSF doesn’t mean that everything was good between them and she was going to become yet another IC goon. And when I see people saying she has to accept Rhys as her High Lord… Nesta’s value as a character isn’t contingent on bowing to Feysand. I don't care that she lives in his court. Who's fault is that in the first place? Oh, she was forcibly turned and now she has to live a life of servitude by default... no!

And as for Cassian, I don’t really care that we didn’t see their conversation. I believe Nesta when she said he was the most angry with her. Making things up like “oh well Nesta is probably exaggerating,” or “he was probably just worried about her safety,” why don’t you believe what she has to say about her own mate? Cassian being angry with Nesta is the status quo as far as I’m concerned.

The facts are that her mate learned about an act of pure compassion on her part, heard her defend herself and give her reasoning, and didn’t give her an ounce of credit. Like, he doesn’t have to agree with the decision, but to be the most angry? To have zero reaction to Rhys spitting in her face? God, and the worst part is this will most likely go nowhere. Just another crime Nesta will have to atone for, likely in the form of handing over Gwydion.

I can understand seeing both sides, because I DO. Rhys has a right to be angry, Cassian can agree with Rhys as his general, I understand all that. No one was right or wrong in this situation—Nesta did something good but risky, Rhys and Cassian have a duty to the realm. But to read about Nesta being screamed at to the point where she’s not sure if they would execute her and have zero empathy for her? But have a full defense at the ready for her loser failmate because people hating on HIM pisses you off more than that chapter did? Maybe... some of us are simply sick and tired of reading about her being screamed at. And if you're not tired of reading about her being screamed at... maybe y'all are just not real Nesta shooters

[acourtofquietdreamers]

A huge reason I can’t see an Azriel and Gwyn book next is there are no obstacles set up between these two characters in ACOSF. Obstacles are needed to create an interesting fantasy romance book. Azriel hasn’t even been set up as a love interest for Gwyn.

With both Feysand and Nessian, we saw conflict set up between these pairings in the books prior to ACOMAF and ACOSF. Obstacles used to craft their love stories. Remember these books are fantasy romance books, heavy on the ROMANCE.

This is a longer post as I’ll be looking at the last scenes between Feysand and Nessian prior to their love stories to compare to the last scenes between Gwynriel, Elucien, and Elriel. Thanks for reading 🫶🏼

For Feysand, we gave the bargain Feyre made with Rhys in ACOTAR. Feyre is in love with the High Lord of Spring, but she is bound to visit the High Lord of Night one week out of the month. Rhys is Tamlin’s enemy and therefore Feyre’s enemy, yet we see Rhys and Feyre develop an understanding between them during their last scene of ACOTAR. There is a level of intrigue between these two characters that makes the reader wonder what will happen between them.

I looked at him finally. His membranous wings were out—tucked behind him—but his hands and feet were normal, no talons in sight. “What do you want?” It didn’t come out with the snap I’d intended. Not as I remembered how he’d fought, again and again, to attack Amarantha, to save me. “Just to say good-bye.” A warm breeze ruffled his hair, brushing tendrils of darkness off his shoulders. “Before your beloved whisks you away forever.” “Not forever,” I said, wiggling my tattooed fingers for him to see. “Don’t you get a week every month?” Those words, thankfully, came out frosty. Rhys smiled slightly, his wings rustling and then settling. “How could I forget?”

There’s a clear chemistry between Feyre and Rhys and we can already see Feyre fighting it in this moment as she struggles to snap at him.

“Well, good-bye for now,” he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn’t been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid. His eyes locked on mine, wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock—pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled. “What is—” I began. He disappeared—simply disappeared, not a shadow in sight—into the crisp air.

This last moment between them leaves the reader wondering why Rhys reacted the way he did. It’s clear we will see more of him and that this story isn’t over.

With Nessian, we saw feelings develop between them in ACOWAR. They had a palpable chemistry and were willing to die together. They even kissed and Cassian gave us this beautiful declaration before their book:

Cassian grunted in pain, but lifted his bloodied hands—to cup her face. “I have no regrets in my life, but this.” His voice shook with every word. “That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.” She didn’t stop him as he leaned up and kissed her—lightly. As much as he could manage. Cassian said softly, brushing away the tear that streaked down her face, “I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

Then in ACOFAS we see a strain between them and conflict develop as Nesta deals with the aftermath of the war and her father’s death. They are avoiding each other, but Cassian still reaches out to Nesta at the Solstice party to give her a gift. Nesta continues to push Cassian away and it becomes clear that the obstacle between Nessian is Nesta herself as she deals with her trauma and self loathing.

A void seemed to enter those eyes. An endless, depthless void. She only said, “Go home, Cassian.” He could count on one hand the number of times she’d used his name. Called him anything other than you or that one. She turned away—toward her apartment, her grimy part of the city. It was instinct to lunge for her free hand. Her gloved fingers scraped against his calluses, but he held firm. “Talk to me. Nesta. Tell me—” She ripped her hand out of his grip. Stared him down. A mighty, vengeful queen. He waited, panting, for the verbal lashing to begin. For her to shred him into ribbons. But Nesta only stared at him, her nose crinkling. Stared, then snorted—and walked away. As if he were nothing. As if he weren’t worth her time. The effort. A low-born Illyrian bastard. This time, when she continued onward, Cassian didn’t follow. He watched her until she was a shadow against the darkness—and then she vanished completely. He remained staring after her, that present in his hands.

We as readers can predict this is not the last we’ll see between these two characters. ACOWAR established mutual feelings between them, but they now have conflict to work through if they want to get back to that place.

Now let’s take a look at Gwyn’s last scene with Azriel and see how it compares:

And when Gwyn reached the finish line, bloody and panting and grinning so wildly her teal eyes glowed like a sunlit sea, she only extended her battered hand to Azriel. “Well?” “You already have your prize,” Azriel said simply. “You just passed the Blood Rite Qualifier. Congratulations.” Gwyn gaped. Nesta and Emerie halted. But Gwyn said to him, “That was why you invited them?”

“I wanted them to know. What you’ve accomplished. That even though Valkyries don’t have something akin to the Blood Rite, you’re as trained as any warrior in Illyria.” “The courses?” Gwyn asked. “Different routes,” Azriel said, “from various Qualifiers over the centuries.” Cassian grinned. “Short of partaking in the Blood Rite, you’re now as close to being Illyrian warriors as you can be.”

In this scene, we see Gwyn conquer the obstacle course. Az was called the “new ribbon” because he created this challenge for the Valkyries and Gwyn beat that challenge a couple paragraphs later. They go on to have a normal, group conversation. Nothing about this interaction screams “There’s more to come with these two.” It feels like a nice closing scene between a mentor and his competitive mentee. There’s no romantic intrigue here.

What I do think is special about this scene and chapter in general is that it shows Gwyn’s growth. Gwyn started out apprehensive around Azriel, but this chapter displayed how far she’s come. She’s now able to joke and be at ease around two different males and that is a great feat for her after what she’s been through.

Now let’s look at Elain and Azriel’s last on page interaction:

Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. “I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

A simple moment of Elain leading Nesta to the sitting room is turned into a romantically charged moment because of the chemistry and pull between Elain and Az. It’s so obvious that Nesta can feel the charge. Az is so aware of Elain that he followed the sound of her laughter. Elain’s breathe caught at the encounter. These two character are clearly love interests and have feelings to explore.

This is the last (and only) encounter between Elain and Lucien in ACOSF:

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Lucien is showing interest towards Elain, but Elain continues to be uncomfortable around him. They have been completely stagnant since ACOFAS with no signs of coming together. I don’t think Sarah would have Elain shrinking around Lucien if he was meant to be her love interest in the next book. There needs to be some sign of mutual chemistry or understanding.

What’s also interesting is we have this scene of Nesta and Azriel between Elain’s moments with Az and Lucien:

“Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger. “My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. “Why did you come if it torments you so much?” “Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn’t come.” “Well, I think holidays are stupid.” “I don’t.” She arched a brow. He explained, “They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things.” Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers. Azriel’s face remained neutral.

Both Azriel and Lucien experience pain because of their feelings for Elain. Nesta figured out Azriel’s feelings for her sister and offered him comfort. “His secret to tell, never hers.” This line will absolutely come into play in the next book. Secrets always come out at some point.

Based on these final moments, Elain is the only possible MFC with conflict set up: having feelings for Azriel while being mated to Lucien. Elain is the only female character with a clear romantic interest. Is it possible for Lucien to be the second POV? Yes, but I think it’s unlikely considering the one sided nature of their relationship. There’s so much emphasis on Azriel’s feelings for Elain throughout ACOSF that I think he is the more likely MMC of Elain’s book. Their connection is mutual, just as Feysand’s and Nessian’s were before their love stories and there is intrigue - Will Elain and Azriel finally act on their feelings for each other despite Elain being mated to another?

[damedechance]

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

so I compiled a list of 26 of my favorite fics (some all time faves, some more recent). If you want to give me a present, please read one (or all!) of these and then come back so we can scream about them together. Drop an emoji in my inbox if you want to know more about a particular fic. The numbers are chapter counts!

*✧𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Azris:

🐦‍⬛what hath night to do with sleep by @iftheshoef1tz (14/14) 🐮Howl by @iftheshoef1tz (12/12) 🧠tell them i'm the worst by @witch-and-her-witcher (1/1)

Elucien:

💾You Look Like Bad News by @the-lonelybarricade (2/2) 😈Bow Down by @shadowisles-writes (1/2) 💘all is for love, is for mind by @shardminds (1/1) 🌕full moon, white honey by @shardminds (1/1)

Feysand:

👑The Thief and the Rake by @popjunkie42 (3/18) 🤍Down Bad by @shadowisles-writes (1/1) 🍀Good Luck Charm by @whatishowedyouinthedark (4/4) 🖋️A Tight Little Skirt by @separatist-apologist (1/1) 📺and they were roommates by @whatishowedyouinthedark (1/1) 🪈whistles far and wee by @foundress0fnothing (1/1)

Gwynriel:

🗡️the gods grow tired by @shardminds (1/1) 🪩Little Thief by @bibliophiliaxvignette (2/2) 🔥hotter than hell by @lalunaoscura (1/1)

Elriel:

🪢Glitch by @thesistersarcheron (4/5) 🫀listen through the wall by @shardminds (1/1)

Emorie:

🦇Why Do My Gods Look Just Like You? by @asnowfern (1/1)

Nessian:

🥀A Woman So Heartless by @velidewrites (1/1)

Rare ships:

🍽️Everybody Knows by @melonsfantasyworld (1/1) 🌞Embers by @ultadverb (4/4)

*✧𝐋&𝐃𝐒

☄️It must have been a mistake by heidini (1/1) (Caleb) 🌟Cool Off by Rei_Lemon (1/1) (Zayne) 🪐Trichotomy by kirotaan (1/1) (Caleb/Zayne/MC) 🌊Siren's Call by mostsincere (1/1) (Rafayel)

🩷Last year's fic recs

[snelbz]

Better Or Worse {Chapter Five}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Cassian —

True to my word, I’ve continued to sleep in Feyre and Rhysand’s basement. Now that it’s Monday, I have my bags in the backseat of my truck as I drive to this damn counseling session. As long as this doesn’t completely blow up in my face, I’ll be going back home with Nesta. 

I was surprised when she showed up at Feyre and Rhys’s, begging me to come home, to go to marriage counseling. A year ago, even months ago, I would’ve agreed to marriage counseling without any hesitation. But I meant what I’d said. I’m tired, and I’m past trying. 

At least that’s what I keep telling myself, but yet I’m here, pulling into the parking lot of some fancy little office on the far end of town. 

Nesta’s already here.

I see her car parked right next to the door. She’s still inside, but her car is off, and I find myself wondering if she’s just as nervous and unsure as I am about this whole ordeal.

After cutting the engine, I grab my wallet out of the cup holder and make my way to Nesta’s car. At first, she doesn’t see me, so I knock on her window and make her jump. She greets me with a scowl. 

Even when she’s mad, even when I’m pissed at her, she’s gorgeous.

“Come on,” I say, as she throws open her door. “We’re about to be late.”

I turn and walk towards the front door of the office building, knowing she’ll be a step behind me. Sure enough, I hear the clipping of her high heels on the pavement a second later. “I’ve been here since 9:45. You’re the one showing up one minute until ten.”

“You said our appointment was at ten,” I said, opening the door and holding it open for her. “So I’m here at ten.”

She glared at me as she walked into the building, but the waiting room was not a conducive place for the type of conversation we were prone to having recently, so she let it drop.

For now.

She headed right for the young woman at the receptionist’s desk, leaving me at the door, giving me a minute to appreciate her. The sweater she wore was loose and baggy, hiding her full breasts, but it was tucked into a pencil skirt that showed off her round ass. It was made of lace, with a shorter skirt beneath, showing off her long, toned legs.It was the kind of obscene balance that Nesta brought to everything in life.

I could barely tear my eyes off her ass, off those legs that hadn’t been wrapped around my waist in far too long, but once I did, I noticed the sweater was an old one of mine.

A knot of emotion caught in my throat that I cleared away before joining my wife.

“Dr. Berdara will be with you shortly, if you’d like to take a seat.”

Nesta gave a curt nod and swiveled to a set of chairs by the window. I quietly followed after a kind smile toward the receptionist. 

Nesta and I sat in silence for five awkward minutes before a door opened and our names were called. The therapist was around our age, maybe a year or two younger, which I thought was strange. Surely she had never been married, and if she had, she couldn’t have been married long enough to know all of the answers.

She seemed nice enough though.

Her and Nesta made small talk as they walked ahead of me down the long hallway and into an office overlooking the parking lot.

She gestured to a small leather couch for us to sit on opposite of her desk, which we did before she sat herself and smiled.

“It’s so nice to meet the two of you,” she said, sweetly. “I’m Gwyn.”

Wants us to call her by her first name? Another red flag.

“Not a fan of going by your title, Doc?” I asked, and I admit that my hostility may have been showing a little too much. I can practically feel Nesta’s eyes on me.

“I prefer a more casual approach when I’m first meeting new clients,” she explained. “Start us all out on even ground, rather than anyone above the other.”

Before I could reply, Nesta jumped in. “I think that’s a wonderful way to start out. I’m Nesta.”

The two of them looked at me, waiting. I started drumming my fingers on the arm of the couch. “And I’m Cassian.”

“As I said, it’s wonderful to meet you both.” Gwyn gave us another sparkling smile. “Cassian, why don’t you fill me in on why you two are here today?”

My fingers froze. “Why me?”

“Because Nesta made the appointment,” she said, nodding to my wife. At the same time, she nonchalantly flipped open a notebook and reached for a pen. “So since she took the first step by reaching out, I’d like to hear from you.”

“Pretty sure I took the first step when I told her I wanted a divorce,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I can feel her go rigid next to me.

Gwyn jots something down in her notebook, either oblivious to the tension between us or used to the uncomfortable situation thanks to her line of work. 

“And what led you to that point?” She pushed, her voice gentle, which only makes me more agitated. “What made you ask her for a divorce?”

Alright. I guess we’re jumping right into this fucking train wreck.

“Nesta stopped caring about our marriage,” I answer, shrugging. “So now I have, too.”

“I didn’t stop caring,” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn gives her a smile. “You’ll have your time to respond, but let’s let Cassian finish.”

Well, shit. Maybe I don’t hate her.

Gwyn turns back to me. “What makes you think that she’s stopped caring?”

“In the last year, we’ve barely spoken to one another. We’ve barely spent any time together. When we do talk, it’s about bills or our schedules or her work, which I think is great, she’s great at what she does, but we don’t need to be constantly talking about deadlines and edits. Every time we’re in the same room together, she gets annoyed and snappy. Every time I ask her for a night off, where we can just be together, she refuses.”

Gwyn nods thoughtfully. “So you feel the root of your issues lies in her work?”

“I think she’s addicted to her work. It’s clear she cares more about it than she does me,” I answer honestly. “She definitely puts more work into her career than she ever has in our marriage.”

Anger is radiating off of Nesta, but she doesn’t say a word. 

“I hear you.” Gwyn writes something else down. “How long have the two of you been married?”

“A little over nine years.” Nesta worked on the night of our anniversary, but I don’t bring that up.

“And your issues just began a year ago?” Gwyn asks.

I hesitate. “I guess I don’t really know exactly when our issues started, but about then, yeah.”

“This may seem like an obvious question, but I’d like as much background as you're willing to offer.” She folds her hands over one another on her desk and looks between us. “Did anything happen around the time things changed? Was there a catalyst or an incident that led to what you both see as a deterioration in your marriage?”

Before I can even decide how much I want to divulge, seeing as I met this woman less than five minutes ago, Nesta answers for us both. “No, nothing.”

And then Gwyn is writing again. “No infidelity or skeletons in closets that came to light?”

When I look over at Nesta, I find her eyes already on me, her gaze pleading.

I wanted to be pissed that our marriage counselor was almost accusing me of cheating on my wife, despite knowing she was asking an innocent question. I wanted to be pissed that Nesta had lied to her face, despite being the one who suggested we come here to work on our issues. This was where she’d finally open up about what had happened that night, when our world had gone dark, after pleading with her so long to just talk to me.

But it wouldn’t be today. Nesta wasn’t ready, the panic in her eyes was evident enough.

I turned back to Gwyn just as she looked up from her notebook and lied, just like Nesta had. “No cheating. No skeletons. Nothing happened.”

Gwyn looked back and forth between us, skeptically, but nodded. “Alright. Well, finding a turning point is a crucial part of this process, so let’s start from the beginning. How did the two of you meet?”

“Freshman year of college,” Nesta says, and I don’t care that she’s suddenly taken control of the conversation.

“And you started dating?”

Nesta nods.

“And what was it that drew you to Cassian?”

The question throws me off guard and I hate how much I want to hear the answer.

Nesta clears his throat. “He was…wild. Confident. Sarcastic. And frustrating as hell.”

Gwyn smiled. “And you found that attractive?”

“I found him intriguing,” Nesta said, wistfully. “He could piss me off and make me swoon within a matter of seconds. I’d say that it was his passion that drew me to him, at first.” 

“And Cassian?” Gwyn asks. “What drew you to Nesta?”

I stare at my outstretched feet. “She challenged me. Captivated me. I was used to dating…girls with low self esteem who just wanted me to prove that they could have me, but Nesta was smart. Confident, too. I don’t know. I guess that I liked that she was different.” 

“Different how?”

It was a much more difficult question to answer than I would have thought. Not because I didn’t have an answer, but because it was hard to put it into words. “She pushed me. She made me dig deeper. There was substance, not just a pretty face, she helped me grow, I guess.” 

Nesta sits silently beside me, staring at her hands, and I tried not to notice that her eyes line with tears. 

“And when did you get married?” Gwyn asks, still watching me.

“A little over a year later. We married young. Both just turned twenty.”

“And did anyone oppose your marriage? Considering you were both so young.”

“My father,” Nesta answers, quietly, “but we’ve never had a great relationship so I didn’t really care what he thought. He came around afterwards.” 

She didn’t mention that he died a few years ago, but I can hear the pain in her voice as I often do when she talks about her dad, although rare. 

“Tell me about your wedding day.”

“It was small,” Nesta says, and it nearly sounds like she’s smiling, although her face remains neutral. “Just our closest friends, and my sisters. Our friend Rhys got ordained online and married us on the beach.” Unable to help myself, I chuckle. Rhys was the worst officiant of all time. He was drunk, which did make the awful speech he had concocted a little bit better. “I wore a dress that I found online for thirty dollars and we were barefoot. It was nice.”

She made that thirty dollar dress look a million bucks. I still remember exactly how she looked, with her hair braided like a crown around her head. I remember how I felt. It had been the best day of my life and I couldn’t believe that I was so lucky to marry someone I was so in love with, my best friend.

“You look lost in thought. What are you thinking?”

It takes me a second to realize that she’s talking to me. Nesta is watching me, expectantly. I clear my throat. “It was a good day.”

I’ve somehow said the right thing and the wrong thing, all at the same time. Gwyn gives me a smile and looks poised to jump onto her next question when Nesta speaks. “That’s it?”

I don’t respond immediately and neither does Gwyn, which leads me to believe she’s going to let this one play out, rather than intervene.

Thanks, Doc.

I turn towards her, unsurprised to find her eyes already on me, storm clouds brewing within. “I said it was a good day, Nes.”

“But that’s all you have to say? It was a good day?” She genuinely looks offended and my short fuse is getting incrementally shorter by the minute. “Meeting your brothers for a drink after work is a good day. When you find a twenty on the street, it’s a good day. And all you have to say is that it was a good day?”

My jaw locks and my fingers flex. “What do you want me to say?”

Pure rage flashes across her eyes. “I want you to say something meaningful.”

Something meaningful. Jokes on her. She’s the one that hasn’t said something meaningful in months, years, who can’t recall how to have a meaningful conversation if her life depended on it. I take a deep breath, then another. Those deep breaths are the only thing keeping me stable, keeping me grounded. “Something meaningful?” I repeat. 

“Yes,” she snaps.

Gwyn remains quiet.

My lips snap shut and I bristle, eyes planted on a pen sitting on Gwyn’s desk. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Just talk, Cassian!”

My eyes snap to hers, and the second we make eye contact, I’m gone. I can see the emotion, the rage and sadness and hope, and that’s rare for Nesta. Especially lately. Lately, I’ve barely gotten anything from her, but now…she’s listening. She’s waiting. She’s hopeful.

“You want to talk about our wedding day?”

“Yes.” A tear falls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away.

“The day I married you was the best fucking day of my life,” I say, looking away from her. “I loved you, Nesta. You were so damn beautiful, walking towards me with that overpriced bouquet. I had no doubt that you were the woman I was supposed to marry. All I wanted was you. I didn’t give a fuck when or where I married you. All I cared about was that you were mine. I meant every word I said in our vows. I’ll always love you, always protect you, always be there for you…” I shake my head. “I meant my vows, Nesta. But your vows were shit. Over the last year, you’ve proven that you didn’t mean a damn word you said that day.”

The room is silent, save for the occasional sniffle from my wife. She doesn’t respond and I’m sure as hell done talking for now.

Gwyn lightly taps the end of her pen against her notepad. “Can you tell me what you mean by that, Cassian?”

“I mean she hasn’t stood behind her vows, the promises we made to each other.” My voice is quiet now, all anger sapped from me as Nesta dabs at her eyes with tissue she produced from somewhere. I’m just tired now.

Reading through her notes, Gwyn says, “You’ve told me there’s been no infidelity, so in what way do you feel that Nesta hasn’t upheld her vows?”

“She’s never there.” I hate explaining this. It’s the same shit I’ve explained to my brothers for the past six months and nothing ever changes. “It’s like I don’t exist. All that matters is her books and her deadlines. She doesn’t put any effort into our marriage or even into our relationship.”

Nesta is noticeably silent now. Good.

Gwyn pushes. “Nesta, would you like to respond to that?”

Angrily, she swipes at a tear. “My books are my livelihood.”

“And you were my whole life.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken the words aloud until both Gwyn and Nesta look at me.

I sigh, rubbing at my temples. Trying to move past the fact that I’m letting feelings I want to suppress out, I say, “Look, I’m proud of Nesta. Okay? She’s a damn good writer, and she’s living her dream. I get that. But since her career has taken off, she’s either working or stressed, and wants nothing to do with me, because I’m just another thing on her plate that’s already overflowing.”

Nesta doesn’t bother saying that I’m wrong.

“So you’re saying that Nesta needs to focus more on you,” Gwyn says.

“I’m saying that as long as she’s too busy working, our marriage is nonexistent.” Gods, I didn’t even want to come and now I can’t shut up. I lock my jaw and stare at my hands.

I feel Nesta looking at me but I don’t care to look back at the moment. 

“And how do you feel about what Cassian has said, Nesta?”

My wife is quiet for a moment, then she says, “I don’t know.”

I scoff and Nesta glares at me, but Gwyn is patient. “Do you not know, or are you unsure how to put your emotions into words?” 

Nesta shrugs, and I know she’s frustrated but I can’t find it in me to care much. “I guess I didn’t realize I was working so much, at first, but now I’m just used to it. I’m used to waking up and working until I go to bed. Ignoring Cassian was not my intention, I just wanted to be successful.”

“And now it’s a habit?” Gwyn asks.

Nesta nods.

“Would you say that you’re addicted to your work?”

Nesta hesitates. “I guess so. I guess it’s all I think about, yes.”

“Do you still enjoy being an author?” Gwyn asks, and I find myself intrigued by this question. For the first time in a while, I look at Nesta.

She’s staring at her wedding rings. “I don’t know. I love to write, but it definitely feels more like a chore than it ever has before. I don’t like the editing process. And sometimes I’m so stressed that I have writer's block and I go insane trying to write anything worthwhile, only for it to get torn apart during editing. My deadlines are getting closer and closer together and I struggle to meet them, because I’m always so stressed. And I know it affects Cassian. Then I feel guilty, but if I’m being honest, that guilt just makes me more stressed and withdrawn and frustrated and miserable to be around.”

The words rush out of her; her eyes never leave her rings.

“There may be a conversation that needs to be had with your publisher about the amount of work your putting out,” Gwyn muses, never one to give orders, just suggestions. “But as of right now, Nesta, I want you to think about how you used to balance work and your time with Cassian before. We’re nearly out of time today, but I want that to be what you consider until we meet again. Cassian, I want you to think about the amount of work Nesta does and how you can help.” I immediately want to protest that I know little about the written word, not like Nesta does, but she shakes her head. “I don’t mean in a literal sense, but to alleviate her stress. How can you help?”

I nodded. If we were here, I was willing to try.

“I want you two to go on a date before our next session.”

I blink at her, not sure that I’ve heard her right. “A date?”

“Yes,” she replies, closing her notepad and smiling at us both. Nesta’s expression is as confused as mine. “Dinner, maybe a movie or some dancing, the activity doesn’t matter. As long as the two of you spend uninterrupted time together, without work or deadlines, cell phones or emails, that’s our goal.”

Uninterrupted time with my wife.

The idea terrified me.

I hesitate, but it’s Nesta that says, “Okay.”

I don’t know why I’m so shocked by this, by her quick acceptance, considering this was all her idea, but I am. I’ve been trying to spend alone time with her for months, and I’ve gotten shot down every time. As soon as someone else mentions it, she says okay.

I tell myself not to be pissed about it, but I am.

Still, I say, “Okay.”

Nesta —

It’s been three days since Cassian has been back home, and it’s been…okay. Quiet, and there’s still not a lot of interaction between the two of us, but we haven’t been fighting. Although I guess it’s hard to fight when you barely speak. 

It hasn’t helped that he’s been working a lot this week. He’s a few men down at his restaurant so he’s picking up the extra slack, as you do when you’re the head chef, until they return. 

Still, when he’s gotten home we’ve had a small conversation about our days then we tell each other goodnight before Cassian makes his way down to the couch to sleep.

I hate being in our big ass bed without him, but I don’t mention it, not yet. 

Cassian got off earlier today, so we decided to take up Gwyn’s challenge. We’re going on a date. I’m nervous as hell, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I want it to go well but I feel like I have to tiptoe around everything to avoid another screaming match.

I can hear Cassian humming to himself in the shower as I slip into a little black dress, one I haven’t worn in a really long time, and look in the mirror. I’m hot, I can’t deny it. I curled my hair and did a full face of makeup, which I also haven’t done in a while, and honestly? I feel confident looking at my reflection, more confident than I’ve felt in…shit, too long.

After clasping a simple diamond pendant around my neck and closing my jewelry box, my eyes fell on the cracked bathroom door in the mirror behind me, a bit of steam billowing out. The only thing I lacked to be completely ready were my heels, but seeing what occurred last time I walked in on Cassian in the shower, I respected his privacy and waited. I sat down on our bed — the bed I’d been sleeping in alone — and waited.

It was absurd, giving my husband privacy and space after being together for a decade. We were the couple no one shared their secrets with, because what one of us knew, the other did as well. We didn’t do it to gossip. 

We just didn’t keep secrets from each other.

I didn’t know at what point that changed, but I knew I was the cause. It all seemed to be my fault lately.

“You ready?”

My head snapped up. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t heard the shower shut off or the door open completely.

And my husband stood before me in nothing but a dark blue towel, water dripping off his hair and running down his muscular body.

I watched as one particular droplet trailed down his neck, over his broad chest and well-defined abdomen, before absorbing into the towel wrapped around his hips.

“Nesta?”

Cauldron, boil me, I was ogling my own husband.

Tearing my eyes from his body, I met his gaze. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find heat there, simmering beneath the wall he’d put up between us. It had been a long time since I’d taken a moment to appreciate his body, a body he works hard to maintain, and I know he was as affected by our distance as I was.

Once I’d looked my fill, I cleared my throat, completely forgetting what he’d asked. “What?”

“Are you ready to go?”

I shook my head. “Almost. Just need to grab my shoes.”

He nodded, heading for his dresser, opening the top drawer, where his socks and underwear had always been tossed in with no rhyme or reason. As he began to rifle through it, I hurried into the bathroom, the steam already dissipating, and into my closet. Finding my heels was a matter of a few seconds and I was back into the bedroom before Cassian had even found a matching pair of socks.

“I’ll be downstairs,” I called, the straps of my shoes dangling from my fingers.

I only got two steps down the hall before I heard his voice call out behind me. “Nes?”

I turned, finding him standing in the bathroom doorway, a pair of black boxer briefs clutched in his hands. “Yes?”

“You look beautiful.”

A sudden pang of nausea swept through my stomach, fueled by excitement and longing at his words. I knew I was blushing. “Thank you.”

His smile almost reached his eyes as he disappeared into our bathroom and I hurried downstairs, Greg on my heels. 

My beautiful, fat cat hopped onto the couch next to me in the living room as I put on my shoes, trying to control my shaking fingers. 

My mind wanders back to my husband in a towel, as well as what lies beneath as I stand, my heels securely fastened. I take one last look at myself in the hallway mirror and take a deep breath as I hear Cassian coming down the stairs. 

When he comes into view, I want to run up to him and kiss him deeply, but I stay where I am. He’s wearing black pants and a dark crimson button down, both of which are perfectly fitted to his gloriously sculpted body. The top few buttons are undone, and I can see glimpses of his chest tattoo. But the best part? His hair hangs loose. 

“Ready?”

“Yes,” I say, nearly breathless, which makes him arch a brow. I clear my throat. “I’m starving.”

“Me too.” He comes near me, where his wallet and keys sit and snatch them up. He smells delicious, like that cologne I got him last Solstice. Once everything is in his pockets, he holds out his hand.

I blink before realizing what it is he wants.

Cassian is nothing short of a gentleman when it comes to a date.

I slip my hand in his and realize just how long it’s been since we’ve touched.

His fingers curl around mine as pulls me to my feet and we turn to head for the kitchen and the garage beyond. He drops my hand as he locks the door behind us and I’m surprised when he takes it again as we walk to his truck. It’s a short walk, but he’s apparently decided it’s been too long since we touched as well.

After closing me in the passenger side of the truck, he circles around until he’s sitting in the cab with me and starts it up. It roars to life and he backs out of the garage and the driveway.

As soon as he’s on the main road, he reaches over and threads my fingers in his.

I don’t say anything about it and neither does he, both of us silently enjoying the contact we’ve been denied for months.

“I made reservations at Sea and Vine,” he said, once the quiet in the cab was starting to feel less comfortable and more stifling. “I know how much you like their wine selection.”

The soft snort leaves me before I can stop it. “The wine selection, eh?” When I glance over at him, his ears are red. “Nothing to do with their cannolis?”

“Don’t hate on their cannolis,” he mutters, and I catch the hint of a smile. 

The rest of the car ride isn’t bad. We make smalltalk, which feels strange and unnatural, but not awful. We make our way to Sea and Vine, and park at a parking meter a few streets over. As soon as we’re out of the truck, he takes my hand again and pulls me close.

The heat radiates off his body, and now that his hair is completely dry, I admire the thick waves. He hasn’t shaved in a week or so, and a steady scruff has captured his cheeks, his chin. I love it when he’s not clean shaven. I think it’s sexy.  

Part of me wants to pull him into an alley and have him pin me up against the bricks. I want to revisit that heat we had when we were dating, when we were engaged, when we were newly married. There was a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, when we would sneak away no matter where we were and fuck each other senseless. 

I’m just now realizing how long it’s been since we’ve even been on a date. The whole concept feels foreign, and I’m almost unsure of what to do.

It’s all so ridiculous.

When we make it to the restaurant, we’re ushered to our table and Cassian pulls out my chair. Once he’s seated across from me, we fall back into our small talk. We share about our days, and how things have been going at work. I order my favorite wine and nearly melt in the deliciousness of it. Cassian asks them for a cannoli before we even order dinner. 

To my delight, I’m enjoying myself. And, I’m hardly thinking about work, which is rare. I feel like I’m thinking about work every waking moment. It’s a nice change of pace.

“Gwyn seems nice,” Cassian says, once our food is placed in front of us. He has a plate of steak and pasta, while I have shrimp scampi. 

“She does,” I agree. “I like her approach. Very casual.”

Cassian nods and pops a bite of steak into his mouth. “I have to admit that I wasn’t so sure about counseling…but, I didn’t mind it.”

“It’s nice, having someone there to play the mediator,” I say, jumping right in. We can tiptoe around our problems or we can face them head on. After months of awkwardness and half-assed conversations, I was ready to get back to who we were. I just had no idea where to start. “Someone to let us finish our thoughts when the other wants to jump in.”

He says nothing, just takes another bite of his exquisite steak and raises an eyebrow, indicating I’m the one who needed the reminder more than he did.

Which, to be fair, was true.

I can’t help but chuckle as I eat, swallowing my food before I speak. “I’m just saying, having an outside party is helpful.”

“I don’t disagree,” he says, twirling his fork in his pasta, not looking at me. “Especially when it comes to shit we don’t want to talk about.”

Immediately, my walls started to go up, not liking where he was leading the conversation. I swallowed harshly, but there was no food in my mouth.

Clearing my throat, I started, “I’m going to make an effort to be home more, Cass—”

“I’m not talking about your work, Nesta,” he pushed.

My jaw clenched and I stared at my plate, still full of food. Cassian’s chewing slowed as he watched me. 

“I thought my work was the biggest part of our issues,” I began, slowly.

Cassian continued to eat, apparently able to eat through any sort of tension. “I think it’s a part of our issues. It’s not the only part of our issues, although it’s apparently the only part of our issues that you want to talk about.”

I’m quiet for a moment, pushing around my pasta on my plate. “Can we not? I want to enjoy my night.”

“I’m not trying to ruin our night,” Cassian says, his fork halting. “I’m just saying—”

“Well stop,” I snap, and instantly regret it. My eyes wander back to my plate. “I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”

“You don’t ever want to talk about it,” he mutters, and drops his fork. “It wouldn’t hurt to talk about it, Nesta.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We have to.”

“Not now.” The tone of my voice is final, and I see the hurt in his eyes. I know that what happened didn’t only affect me. It affected him, too, and we never had closure. I get that…but I can’t talk about it. I’m not ready. Even after all this time. I’m not ready. 

We’re quiet for a moment, and I wonder if anyone at the tables surrounding us have picked up on our awkward choice of dinner conversation. 

“I’ve lost my appetite,” I say, at last.

“Yeah.” Cassian’s not looking at me. All of the sudden, the mood has changed and we’re strangers again. “Me too.”

“Call for the check.”

His jaw locks but he gives me a stiff nod. With barely any of his food eaten, he motions for the server to come our way and asks for the check.

I feel guilty.

I also feel angry.

Uncomfortable.

Sad.

We sit in complete silence as our check is retrieved and we’re brought to-go boxes. I dump my shrimp scampi into one, and he pushes his steak into another. 

We barely make it out of the restaurant before he says, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” I ask, as if I don’t know, which seems to make him mad.

“Don’t do that,” he says, stopping under a streetlight to glare at me.

“Don’t do what?” I ask, unable to stop my act, not knowing why. 

I can tell he’s frustrated, can tell he’s getting pissed. I notice he’s not reaching for my hand this time. 

“Act like you never have any fucking clue what I’m talking about,” he hisses. “I need you to communicate, Nesta. I need you to talk to me, to be open to me, to give me something of substance. I’m tired of these surface, meaningless conversations, and I’m tired of you avoiding everything we have to get out in the open. Therapy only goes so far.”

“Why couldn’t we just have a nice night?” I cry, and I hate myself for getting emotional. “We haven’t had a date in forever. This was supposed to be good for us.” And now we’re fighting on the fucking street.

Cassian just shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh, right, it’s mine! It’s always my fault. It’s my fault we drifted apart, it’s my fault that you want a divorce, it’s my fault that we can’t—” the words fade away from me, stuck on my tongue. A tear falls that I wish kept itself hidden. 

He stiffens. “Nesta—”

“Go home, Cassian.” I start to walk away, but he quickly follows me.

“Come on. Let’s just go to the truck—”

“I’ll find my own way home,” I snap, trying my best to hurry ahead of him. I don’t look at him. I hardly acknowledge his presence. I need to be alone.

“Nes—”

“Please, Cassian!” I spin around, meeting his eyes. I can’t stop the tears from falling, can’t stop the feeling of utterly falling apart. “Leave me alone! Go home.”

I hate the angst in his eyes, the confusion, the loss. “Where are you going?”

I shake my head, backing up slowly. “I’ll see you at home.”

This time, when I walk away from him, he doesn’t chase after me. 

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Epilogue}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: The end. :) Thank you for reading! We've appreciated all the love and support. I'm hoping to start posting a new project soon. Stay tuned!

~ Cassian ~

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I freeze, blinking, and slowly slide my eyes to where Nesta is standing at the kitchen’s threshold, gaping at me.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.” 

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead. 

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed. 

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly. 

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner. 

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix. 

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm. 

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work. 

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together. 

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person. 

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee. 

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.” 

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her. 

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears. 

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek. 

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy. 

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.” 

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.” 

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud. 

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay. 

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness. 

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return. 

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom. 

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

And I am whole. 

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter Four

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

Horses

CW: Mentions of alcohol abuse and drunk driving, mentions of family members being hurt bc of addiction. Cassian is indeed an ass in this one. So is Mor.

“Look, Nesta. You got yourself into this. You’re the one who drove drunk to the cemetery last month where you knew your sisters would be there. It’s almost as if you wanted to be caught, falling into a trap they didn’t even set.” He shook his head, looking out the nearby window.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone.” Eris huffed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I know I might be asking for a lot. But I can’t stand it here, Eris.” Nesta said, crossing her arms.

“You’re asking for something that I can’t do. The judge will not lighten your sentence. In fact she may double down. Or better yet throw you in jail.”

“Maybe it would be better.” Nesta mumbled.

Eris rolled his eyes. “My hands are tied. You put yourself behind that wheel. There's no excuse for that in this world.”

Nesta remained silent, her foot tapping against the table’s leg. The probation officer leaned back in the opposing chair staring.

“Sorry chick-a-dee. You should have known better.”

Her eyes raised until she met his gaze. Glaring from her silver blues to his browns. A smirk rolled with his lips. He leaned down, closer to Nesta. “Careful, pup .”

Eris shot a glare at the officer. “Watch your tone, Bellius. That’s my client you’re speaking to.”

Bellius lifted his hands up in mock surrendering. “Sorry, Eris. Bitch got my tongue and all.”

Nesta snarled shooting up from her chair, but Eris caught her wrists before she could do anything. 

He leant down to her ear. “If you want a punishment worse than what you have now, by all means, continue.”

Feeling Bellius’ stare, Nesta yanked her wrist from Eris’ grasp.

“I’m done for today.” 

Nesta marched out of the tackroom in a silvery blaze.

**

Bits of the citrus peel came under Nesta’s nails as she finished peeling the clementine. Eating one at a time, Nesta took out her phone, shuffling a playlist to listen to. Her head bobbed to “Stone Mother” by Joise & Laurel. The folky country music played in her earbuds where cellos and violins made art with their bows. Drums in the back and piano as the melody she sang along softly to the music. The sound helped soften her thoughts from earlier with Eris and Bellius. It was something she didn’t want to think about; how she ended up here.

Looking up, Nesta watched the horses from the therapy barn graze. By now she was learning who was who despite not working with them. The two terrasen cove horses were Sundrop and Starlight.They trotted around the area, playfully annoying one another. At first glance it wasn’t easy to tell who was who, but if she looked closely, Starlight’s forelock was a brownish color compared to the rest of his mane that was whitish blond like Sundrop’s.

Grazing near the pasture fence was the nidaros draught named Betty. Cassian mentioned he wanted to call her Betty Brown Eyes but everyone vetoed the name. The horse looked up, watching Neta. She could maybe see where Cassian was coming from, however she would not ignite that man’s ego.

The sun was setting in the late August sky as Nesta’s gaze traveled from horse to horse. It was so natural looking at them, studying their markings and their behaviors that she didn’t notice that different music was playing.

Until she heard the soft violins play the instrumental version of a song about a summer’s cruelty. Her eyes widened at the sounds as she remembered it all; riding Flame in the Grand Prix freestyle in her first Olympics at sixteen. Flame performed the piaffe gorgeously, his body in elegant trot. But what stole the show and earned them the bronze medal were the smooth transitions of the flying changes in his canter strides.

Naturally Nesta’s posture changed from muscle memory. Back straightened, eyes forward, hands steady. Her attention was solely on the music so her gaze unfocused from the world around her. Colors of the sky and grass and horses blended together. Her face stayed neutral as if she was still performing.

Then the music stopped as the wire to her earbuds were yanked. Startled, Nesta scrambled to stand, meeting blonde hair and glaring brown eyes. She stood up fully, tucking her phone back in her pocket, the clementine on the ground.

“Can I help you?” Nesta asked.

“You can help the ranch. Breaktime is over.” The woman said.

 Nesta recognized the designer logos on the woman’s outfit and accessories. Who the fuck brought Barbie Karen out here?

“Excuse me, but you don’t order me around.”

“I do when my cousin owns this ranch. I do when my best friend has had to suffer from not just alcoholic parents, but a sister too.”

Guilt slid right to her heart at the mention of her family. Shifting left, Nesta stared at the woman in front of her. She looked oddly familiar, remembering her on Feyre’s instagram. Ranging from posts featuring the City of Starlight to late night stories. Her stomach twirled with slight envy whenever they appeared on her feed. She raised an eyebrow at the woman as she tried to recall her name.

Michelle? Monica?  

Nesta glared. “I don’t know why you’re being such a busybody? And in any case, I follow Cassian’s orders.”

The woman glared right back. “Cass and Az went to the tack shop a few towns over to buy more feed or whatever.” She glanced down at her manicured nails before continuing. “It doesn't matter. Cass put me in charge of you. As a reminder, you were sent here to work. Not to look at ponies all day.”

The guilt dried out as anger brewed over it, swelling in Nesta’s stomach and mind. Her hands curled into fists. As emotions rose, so did the familiar wanting waves of liquor Nesta knew she should ignore.

“Fuck off.” Nesta snapped, her tone bitter to the bite.

The woman stood unphased. “Cassian mentioned you would be stubborn as Rhys’ mule. Get back to work, Nesta.”

Nesta moved back so she was leaning against the nearby tree. “I think I’m quite content to stay right here actually. And clearly you know me, but I don’t know you. Although you seem oddly familiar.” The desire to drink grew with every word she spat.

“I remember my sister hanging out with an alt-righteous bitch. Megan was it?” She spoke without missing a beat.

“It’s Morrigan.” The blonde snarled. “And last time I checked, the alt-righteous bitch was the one who almost killed her own sister by driving drunk.”

Time swirled as Nesta was no longer standing near Morrigan on that damn ranch. No, she was behind the wheel of her car, familiar blue eyes looking at her in fear, wincing for the impact to happen. The guilt rose and overlaid her entire soul as engine smoke blew into her lungs. 

Cold deadly rage bolted Nesta from the tree, her body barely inches from Morrigan.

“You know nothing about that day.”

“I know enough.”

The rage grew sorrowful in its course through Nesta’s heart. Her desire to defend herself lay defeated in between them. Nesta silently walked past Morrigan, bumping her shoulder with the blonde’s.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Morrigan called out.

Nesta stopped, looking over her shoulder. “I can’t stand you if I’m sober.”

She walked away, every step in wrath and grief. As Nesta came near the house, spotting a bay mare trotting around uneasily. Her body language came off as scared almost. Don’t I know the feeling?

Turning her head, Nesta continued walking down the dirt driveway making it all the way to the mailbox before turning on the two way road, heading to the right. Her phone was her only companion whose battery life ran dangerously low as the sky only grew darker.

**

Nesta was unsure how long she was walking for as she made her way down the road. The urge to drink was clutching her throat, needing the taste of smooth cold vodka. Her nails scratched her left arm, trying to suppress the urges that she fed willingly for the last several years. Body aches and a pounding headache merged not long after, her symptoms starting to come back in high tide.

Fuck that bitch. Fuck Morrigan. She doesn’t know anything. None of them do! Nesta thought to herself as her mind stayed focused on all of these thoughts. Her guilt had drained entirely but only to be replaced with anger. It was like this for years, no one knowing the truth, and Nesta knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but it bothered her. It bothered her to her bones, as they carried her trauma.

A car going the opposite direction came over a hill, its headlights blinding Nesta for a moment where she walked on the narrow shoulder. Large fields were all that she could make out as she stopped walking. A slow dread curled into the pit of her stomach. Where the hell was she?

She peered up to the sky, the once oranges and pinks and purples were now the shades of blackish blues. The sky was littered with stars, however their names she never could recall. Feyre was always good at remembering the constellations, their names and where they were in the sky.

The thought of her baby sister made the pit grow bigger, anchoring her to the stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think of Feyre. Reaching into her pocket, Nesta drew out her phone that’s battery was at five percent. Panic strode deep within her, hands shaking. Quickly Nesta unlocked her cracked screen, moving on autopilot as she found the last number she called that was several weeks ago. The phone dialed, her anxiety growing.

I shouldn’t have called. She’s busy. She has her life. She doesn’t need me. But I–

“Hello?” A voice Nesta recognized far too well spoke on the other line.

Nesta struggled to speak, but her anxiety pushed through with a tail flare of courage. “Ellie?”

An old nickname for her first younger sister. Growing up they called each other Nessie and Ellie, a duo that survived their mother’s laws and father’s absences. The other day she didn’t want to think of her, but now she clung to her sister’s voice in this endless sea of darkness.

“Are you drunk?” Elain accused.

Startled by the accusation, Nesta’s pitch shot high. “W-what? No. Listen it’s a long story, but I walked off the ranch and my phone is dying-” 

“What!? Where are you, Nesta? What are you even thinking? Are you asking to join our parents now?”

Hurt slammed into Nesta like the wind was knocked out of her. But she pushed it down, all the way to the rage she grew familiar with living with. The rage everyone saw.

“Fuck you, Elain. I was just trying to talk to you.”

“Well excuse me for not knowing the difference. I don’t think I’ve spoken to you sober in almost two years, Nesta.” She sighed before continuing. “And the last several times you called, all you did was apologize to me while drunk.”

“You got yourself into this mess, Nesta. Figure out how to get back on your own.”

Her words ironically mirrored Nesta's conversation with Eris. Before she could hiss or cry out, the line went dead. Nesta pulled her phone away from her ear, the black screen filling the void. Numbly, Nesta walked, her anxiety and hurt and rage clung to the ground making her steps heavy as she pushed forward.

Her eyes stung with tears as Nesta continued walking. She sniffed, hoping to bottle these feelings away. She hated crying. Hated looking weak. Hated how she could be taken advantage of with tears. As sadness brewed into a simmering rage, she suddenly stopped. Lights of a nearby store shined, an open sign flashing in the corner of the window. Then it hit her.

“I also live down the road from the House of Wind. I run the general store down the way. If you make a right out of the ranch and keep going down, you’ll find my place eventually.”

Before Nesta knew it, she was running. Her lungs heaved at the sudden exercise as Nesta pushed open the door, almost falling face first into the wooden floor. Trying to regain her breath, Nesta gazed around the shop area. There was a counter filled with crops probably from local farmers. Nearby was an entire shelf dedicated to the local honey, ranging from honey in a bottle to honeycombs. On the other side was local pet food and toys. There were a few spots that held snacks and drinks for customers.

As Nesta approached the cashier counter, news clippings of barrel races that were so old the paper was an ugly hue of a brownish yellow. There were actual photos along with magazine cut outs. Then in an old wooden frame behind the counter was a photo of a woman who looked like Emerie. Her smile was big as she stood next to a bay colored horse. The horse wore western tack as it seemed genuinely content with the woman.

“We’re about to close, so make it fast–Nesta?” A voice came out from a nearby backroom. Her new friend stood with her hair in a braid like the other day. Emerie lifted the hatched to cut through to the store area.

“What are you doing here? I thought you said that you were…what’s wrong?”

Nesta shook her head, but felt the sting of water in her eyes threatening to fall. She rubbed her eyes roughly, pushing the tears away. She took a breath, then another one. Her hand still over her eyes as she spoke.

“I..I got lost.” She sheepishly shrugged. “Didn’t want to be alone.” She mumbled the last part.

There was weight on her free hand. Pulling the hand away from her face, Nesta cast her gaze downwards. Emerie’s hand laid on top of her’s.

“These roads can get pretty scary at night if you’re not familiar.” Emerie said, before pulling her hand away, ushering Nesta to the backroom. With a little encouragement, Nesta stepped forward going. Most of the room was taken up by shelves, back-stock items. At the end of the room was a desk with a computer and a phone.

“Make yourself at home.” Emerie pointed to a chair as she walked to the desk.

Nesta sat comfortably in the cozy armchair. It was worn down by the years with scratch marks and stains, but the golden velvet stood out like a sore thumb. It was the brightest item in the room, possibly on the store level. Nesta raised an eyebrow at the chair.

Emerie grinned at her expression. “I live upstairs, but sometimes I like to read down here when the shop is closed. My dad’s family has had this shop for decades. My mom helped with this store ‘til the day she died.”

Her brows furrowed, lost in a memory. A moment passed before Emerie spoke again. “He wasn’t a good father or husband, but that chair was the one thing he allowed my mom to have.” Emerie shrugged. “Having the chair here is like having her down here too.”

Glancing down at the chair, Nesta’s fingers traced the left armrest. Her gaze returned to Emerie as her new friend stared at her own tattoo on her arm. Emerie traced the words inked into her skin.

“It was something she said to me every day, even on the day she died. ‘I love you Emerie, more than the mountains, the moon, and Mars .’” Emerie’s voice cracked slightly when she finished the quote.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” Nesta’s mother appeared in her mind. Her stare mirrored Nesta's eyes, watching with unrestrained coldness. Rubbing her arms, Nesta tried to draw warmth from the friction of her hands.

“Thank you. Also I’m sorry, I tend to leave the AC blasting down here all of the time.” Emerie apologized as she tossed a blanket from a nearby basket.

Nesta caught the thow, noticing all of the different horses scattered around. A similar one flashed from a childhood memory. Quietly, she breathed looking back up.

“Is your dad still around?”

Emerie laughed, although there was little evidence of humor. “No. He died two years ago. Had a heart attack while running the store…When I found him.” Emerie tapped her fingers against the desk, shifting. “It was like a weight had been lifted.”

Nesta moved so she sat cross-legged underneath the blanket, mindful to slip off her boots beforehand. “I felt similar when my mother died. I was already traveling to shows by then, but when my dad called me to tell the news, I felt…I felt clear, if you ever felt that before.”

Emerie nodded. “I have.”

Standing up, Emerie opened the mini fridge near her desk. She pulled out two glass bottles that resembled beer. Nesta voiced concerns, but stopped short when Emerie handed one to her, a colorful label she’s never seen before. 

Cola Cold  - originally made Smite Hill.

“Smite Hill?” Nesta puzzled, staring at the logo.

“It’s a small town south of here. They’re not friendly, as you could guess by the name, but they make all sorts of craft sodas and strangely enough neat rabbit statues.” 

Emerie took a sip. “Their cola is far by the best in the world. And it’s a twist cap, so don’t even worry about asking for a bottle opener.”

Nesta hummed, twisting the cap off.

The first sip hit her with something fizzy, sweet, tangy, and maybe even citrusy. 

A small smile appeared as she took another sip.

“See? It’s good.”

“It’s fine.”

“Liar!” Emerie grinned.

The two smiled at one another, clanking their bottles together.

After a moment, Emerie asked. “You wanna tell me how you got here?”

Nesta took a sip of the soda. “Not really, I don’t wanna talk about me right now.”

Emerie didn’t push, taking the hint. Settling into her desk chair, she reached for a book near the computer when Nesta gasped.

“Is that The Seven Lords and Me ?”

“You know Sellyn Drake?” Emerie’s eyes sparkled with a devilish delight.

“I’ve only read that one from her. What else do you recommend?”

“Oh Nesta Archeon, you have no idea of the pandora box you just opened.”

As the truck turned off, Cassian had an uneasy feeling nestled inside him. Everything was fine up until Azriel and him were on their way back from the store for horse feed and other necessities for the barns. He spotted Mor’s convertible in the lot in front of the house. Grabbing the bags from the tailgate, Cassian began walking to the therapy barn first. He winced slightly with the added weight on his shoulder.

But as he walked, Cassian didn’t see the braided golden brown hair he’s grown familiar with over the last two weeks.The newest horse over in the corral was moving uneasily. She kept trotting and cantering, changing her gaits.

Where was Nesta?

“Cass?” A feminine voice called out. 

Cassian turned to see Mor coming out of the house.

“Hi Mor. What’s up? Have you seen Nesta?”

Mor picked at her nails. “You didn’t see her on your way home?”

“On the way home?” Cassian shook his head. “What the fuck happened, Mor?”

“I asked her to finish her break and return to work. It’s what she’s here to do after all. We got into a little spat, and then…” The words trailed off as her hands struggled to empathize. 

“Then what, Morrigan?” 

It was rare for Mor’s full name to be used within the family. It was even rarer from Cassian.

Mor disappointedly shook her head, caught off guard by the use of her full name. “I don’t know…She said something like going to drink or something. Then she just walked off the ranch.”

The world froze as Cassian’s mind went over everything that Mor just said to him.

“And you…You, you didn’t stop her?”

“I didn’t think she was serious and then 15 minutes went by, and…I’m not sure where she went...”

Panic rustled in his chest. “Alright, and you saw her walk out the ranch, not anywhere else?” He shifted, handing Mor the feed. “And here, put this food in the barn. Just leave them inside the feed room. I’ll get to it later.”

Mor grunted, the heaviness catching her slightly off balance. “Where are you going?” 

“To find Nesta. Unless you want to call Feyre on how you lost her sister.”

His friend quickly turned around, heading to the barn. 

His foot tapped, thinking.

Nesta couldn’t have gone far…Downtown is about a twenty minute walk from here. It’s the closest place to buy a drink.. 

Cassian pulled out his phone, calling her. It went straight to voicemail.

“Shit.” He dialed a second time, but was left with the voicemail again. He sighed as he stayed on the line.

“Hey Sweetheart, I don’t know where you are, but you need to get your butt back over here at the ranch…I’ll see you soon.”

His hand pulled at the ponytail from the half-up half-down look. Biting his lip, Cassian raced through his options. He could call the cops, but that could make everything worse for Nesta. And after her AA meeting earlier in the week, she seemed to be doing a little better. Was this all for nothing? His other hand hovered over Rhys’ name in his contacts.

Fear brewed as Cassian recalled that he had faced this before, losing someone out in the field during a battle. But what started as a rescue assignment turned into a recovery mission. The fallen soldier was eventually found far out west of the base. The state of his body…Cassian shook his head, not wanting to relive it again.

I’m not there anymore. He took a deep breath before running up to the house. As he ran, Azriel came flying out of the door.

“Emerie just called.” Azriel said, sounding a little breathless.

“Emerie as in Rip’s daughter, Emerie?” Cassian questioned.

“The only Emerie we both know who has the ranch’s number. Nesta’s with her.”

Cassian blinked, the shocked settling in. “She knew how to get there?”

Azriel shrugged. “Maybe Emerie mentioned it at AA. But we can discuss that later.”

The brothers hopped into the truck before taking off down the road.

**

The door to the truck flew open as Cassian jumped out. Standing on the store’s porch was Nesta. Behind her stood Emerie. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Cassian shouted. Frustration and worried mixed, but it was only anger that dripped from his words. His gaze titled down, finding two glass bottles on the ground.

Cassian’s body shook, unable to hide his wrath. “You were drinking?!” 

Nesta looked down, not saying anything. Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Nesta, get in the truck.” Azriel called out, climbing out the driver seat. His black stetson hat blended with the night sky.

Nesta didn’t look back as she got in through the passenger door side, sliding to the middle. Cassian began to sneer when Azriel approached him.

Emerie glared at Cassian. “She was with me the entire time, Valyrian. She hasn’t had one sip. You know this is a dry store.”

Azriel nodded, picking up one of the bottles. “We would’ve smelled the alcohol on her. This is pop. She isn’t drunk, Cass.” His tone was almost a warning to his brother.

Cassian wrestled trying to find the right words. His ears shaded pink in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry, Emerie.” He stood as the regret of his words sunk deep. “Thank you for looking out for her.” He spoke gently to Emerie. “I’m sorry that I yelled and accused her of drinking.”

Emerie rolled her eyes. “I don’t care that you yelled, I care that you accused my friend. And more importantly you should be apologizing to her. Not the other way around, General .” Cassian’s old nickname from high school rolled off her tongue like it was nothing.

Cassian mumbled, agreeing with Emerie before he and Azriel got back into the truck.

The truck ride home was the most silent 2 minute car drive Cassian had ever been on. Not soon enough they pulled up onto the long driveway. Cassian didn’t spot the red car in the lot anymore. Mor must have left then. Probably for the best..

The three left the truck. Nesta stormed away, heading to the house. Cassian started to follow, reaching for her hand, but Azriel stepped in front of him, blocking his path. At this angle he could see the slight differences in their height.

“Leave her alone tonight. It’s been a long day for everyone. Talk to her in the morning.”

Cassian sighed, his anxiety spiking. 

“Let’s take care of the horses for now. It’ll distract you.” Azriel moved past him, but soon turned around. 

“You may also want to take your lessons and learn from them. Whatever you said about the damn horse in the corral, apply it to Nesta. She’s not broken, but no one becomes an alcoholic for shits and giggles. You of all people should know that.”

Cassian grimaced, the toll of his emotions from the evening wearing him down like rocks under water. He felt his brother’s hand on his good shoulder.  

“Let her come to you, Cass. When she’s ready.”

“When did you become the smart one?” Cassian questioned, cocking his head to the side.

His brother let go of his shoulder, heading towards the barns.

As Azriel walked he called out. “I have two very idiotic brothers. Someone has to be the smart one out of the three of us.”

Cassian agonized replaying the moments with Nesta in his mind. The emotion was so much, the dull familiar pain in his shoulder ached. He groaned, massaging his bad shoulder. The chronic aching had returned like clockwork. 

Glancing up the meadow of stars above him, a soft voice called out from his memory. The voice felt almost like it was from a different lifetime, combing through the ridges of his childhood.

“Today was bad, Cassian. But that means tomorrow can be better.”

Cassian turned, his gaze settling onto the mare in the corral. She wasn’t pacing as much, but she refused to stand still. Her big brown eyes watched him, as if something or someone was communicating with him.

“And if the next day is bad, you don’t give in. Keep reaching for tomorrow.”

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows @wolfnesta @lilah-asteria @highqueenmorrigan @daughter-of-lethe

[separatist-apologist]

What are your favorite monster fics? I’ve read all of yours and you have left me craving it.

You can't go wrong with any of these, and they are also my personal favorites:

On Waves of Blue by @kingofsummer93 [elucien]

Elain is bored of her mind-numbingly dull life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom. The only excitement she's ever known is the threat of the great fire-breathing King Koopa, intent on making her his bride.

Is it so wrong, then, that she doesn't fear his return?

To Tango With The Devil by @iambutmortal [feysand]

For two years, Feyre’s been obsessed with the demon statue in the church. It haunts her dreams, even on the eve of her wedding. To bad the statue’s just as obsessed with her.

Bow Down by @shadowisles-writes [elucien]

When one of Elain's rituals releases more magic than usual, a much bigger demon than what she has ever protected herself against comes to her door. No amount of hidden traps and talismans can protect her from what he wants to take.

My Heart of Stone by @c-e-d-dreamer [nessian]

“Why do you run from me, my mate?” the gargoyle asks, tilting his head and sending his dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Nesta feels hysterical, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat, but somehow she’s able to choke out the words, “what did you just call me?”

Howl by @iftheshoef1tz [azris]

When Azriel suspects that werewolves are behind the disappearance of his brother, he turns to the only werewolf expert he knows. Unfortunately for Azriel, Eris might be the werewolf he's been looking for.

Smite My Enemies by @abraxos-and-ataraxia [nessian]

Nesta summons a creature to obliterate her enemies, but quickly finds another use for the demon that appears.

A Woman So Heartless by @velidewrites [nessian]

When the Goddess of the Underworld grants a mortal General an extended stay in the land of the living, she doesn’t expect him to come back with another deal — one she has no idea will ruin her life forever.

Bejeweled by @thesistersarcheron [feysand]

Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him.

He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

Meet Me In The Woods by @paranoidbagel [feysand]

Returning to the ancient forests surrounding his ancestral home in the Scottish highlands, Rhys quickly discovers how the hunter becomes the hunted when a bloodthirsty Scottish faerie turns her ravenous sights on him.

The Music of the Night by @the-lonelybarricade [feysand]

It's Feyre's first year as an elligible maiden for the village reaping. In order to escape the chance of being chosen, Feyre rushes into a marriage with Lord Tamlin. She is terrified on her wedding night, but foruntately she is spared from consumating her marriage when she is pulled into a strange, erotic dream with an enchanting creature.

Paint It Red by @moodymelanist [nessian]

Nesta Archeron has been thirsting for revenge against Tomas Mandray since a fatal encounter in November 1940. When he suddenly reappears decades later, she finally has the perfect opportunity to make him pay for what he’s done. Her only problem? She and her friends aren’t powerful enough to take Tomas and his lackeys down on their own…

Cassian Valladares is the deadliest vampire hunter Windhaven has seen in a generation. When Nesta approaches him with a plan to kill her ex-fiancé, he’s initially hesitant – he wants nothing to do with leeches, especially one who almost got him killed. But as the bodies start piling up, Cassian and his brothers are forced to reconsider…

Will Nesta and Cassian be able to put aside their differences long enough to work together? Or will they find themselves consumed by something else entirely?

Crow Song by @damedechance [gwynriel]

Three years ago, Gwyneth Berdara became the ward of the Night Institute, a band of hunters led by Rhysand who work to rid the world of vampires. After one fateful night where Gwyn unwittingly welcomes one such creature into their home, she strikes a deal with Azriel, one that is just as likely to condemn them as it is to save them.

What The Shadows Hide by @shadowsxgwynriel [gwynriel]

When Gwyn goes out on the night of Calanmai to search for a missing priestess, she’ll soon find out that something lurks in the shadows...

[highladyjane]

I don't want another warrior training like we've already had in the former books, but aside from training her Seer abilities, I can also see Elain having some basic and necessary training both for self-defence and to become a spy disguised as an emissary of the NC (because she can definitely be both at the same time). And I definitely see Nuala and Cerridwen + Az, and maybe even her sisters, teaching her a thing or two about how to properly wield a knife outside the kitchen - on her own terms and choice ofc.

Feyre was the bow and arrow, Nesta is the sword, and Elain is definitely the "knife in the dark" (just like Azriel).

I can totally see her carrying a knife/dagger as her weapon of choice under all her beautiful dresses like...

I don't think Elain, nor any other female character (especially in the Maasverse tbh) will lose her "soft femininity" just because she learns how to wield a blade. I think what they choose to do with that blade is what makes the difference.

None of them likes violence itself (except for probably mostly the Illyrians), but they sometimes have to resort to it because they need to. Knowing how to handle a blade doesn't necessarily mean it's for violence or to kill - but to defend, protect and save lives just like she did with Nessian vs Hybern.

She may have some lingering trauma from that incident to process, but I think Elain will see that having a dagger around at times is actually useful and easy enough to hide - and the perfect weapon of spies.

Maybe not even just for self-defence but for random pruning, carving, and slicing things in her garden and kitchen lol... It can be subtle and unexpected, but useful and sharp enough when needed - just like her.

No matter what happens to Truth-teller after HOFAS, I still think daggers and knives will come to play for both Az and Elain.

Maybe he'll even gift her a secret, lovely dagger of her own next Solstice... 😏

So that she can...

... in front of Az so he can momentarily forget the existence of air and have something new to fantasize and be tormented about at night 🤭 Like "Call me a mistake one more time, you jackAz" 😏 loljk

Yes, I'm getting carried away.

I can see so many possibilities and potentials for Elain.

She has repeatedly shown the will of becoming more useful and not like how she herself realised and admitted to being like in the first book (because character development, duh). And since she's starting to "show some claws" I think she'll also want to learn how to really fend for herself and not always have to rely on others, especially not Az (not after that Solstice incident) nor her sisters to always come and save her.

She likes domestic things and is the only one among her sisters who is actually good and useful at it, she's a Cauldron-blessed Seer (and now likely also Koschei's next target), but she also has hinted unexplored potential for something besides all that - the stealth, shadows, and secret-keeping = spywork.

She's the perfect housewife-spy like those in WW2 that SJM herself referred to.

Introverts like Elain are always underestimated observers and always so easily dismissed as boring just because their mouths aren't as open as their minds.

Elain knows how to surprise and I think she definitely will again in her book.

Especially with something sharp at your throat the next time you call her boring and useless.

She's the perfect knife in the dark. A beautiful rose with thorns. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. 🌹🗡✨😌

[danikamariewrites]

hello bestie! 🩷

happy september 1st! pls remember to focus on you and don’t feel the need to rush through your requests. your art takes time and in the end, it will be amazing. your health and well-being is more important, so pls take care of yourself. ✨ you are loved ✨

now, i’ve had this idea stuck in my head for the last couple of days. could you possibly do a request where reader is at a ball in the court of nightmares with the rest of the ic, eris is there and goes to ask nesta to dance but sees reader instead? either feysand or nessian gets jealous about it, and feels like they have to remind reader who they “belong” too in the end. (reader would be mated to the couple.)

thank you darling! 🩷

Am I Really?

Poly!Feysand x reader

A/n: hey bestie! Love you too❤️ this is such a good request oml

Warnings: possessive!Feysand, suggestive

You felt their eyes on you as you placed your delicate hand in Eris’ pale one. He guides you to the dance floor grabbing your waist and you rest a hand on his shoulder. The music starts up and Eris glides you across the floor. “You look very elegant this evening.”

You smile at the lordling, “Thank you. You look your usual self.” You didn’t need daemati powers to know Rhysand and Feyre were containing their rage at your smile toward Eris. Good. Let them squirm. As you and Eris waltz across the shining obsidian floor your grips tighten on each other, pulling you into each other.

You were so close to him you could practically feel the fire that runs through his veins. It made you wonder if what they said about Autumn Court males was true. You knew they were in your mind. Even if they we’re disguising themselves you could feel something akin to thunder rumbling in your mind.

Eris was truly intoxicating up close. Those freckles on that pale delicate skin. His calculating eyes that hold an unending amount of secrets. You’d be lying if you said Eris didn’t interest you. He was handsome, yes, but what a burden that would be. To take on the role of wife with him.

As the music came to end Eris spun you out. Still holding your hand he bowed, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. You forced a blush to your cheeks and dipped your chin at him. After he walked away you knew Feyre and Rhysand would have a clear view of you.

You watched Eris walk away. A dumb smile plastered on your face along your forced blush. You put on a giddy expression and turned, walking off to get a drink.

You felt their presence before you saw them. Walking away with your glass in hand they followed you until you stopped in a dark alcove just off the throne room. Feyre snatched the glass from your hand before it could even touch your lips.

“Hey,” you protest, grabbing for your drink. Rhysand catches your wrist, pulling your hand to lay on his chest. “Uh-uh darling. We’re going to have a little chat first,” Rhysand purrs, that feline smirk gracing his lips. You look to Feyre for help but she just gives you a wicked smile as she inches closer to you.

“Did you think we would wait until we we’re home to talk about the little stunt you just pulled?” His dark power flickered in his violet eyes. “You’re ours sweetheart,” Feyre added, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “start acting like it.”

You pulled a risky move and rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t felt like theirs in a while. At the start of your relationship with them it was great. But the past few months you haven’t felt their attention like you used to. “Am I yours?” Feyre and Rhysand looked taken aback at the question.

Shaking them off you push them to be an arms length away. You crossed your arms and scowled at them. “It hasn’t felt like. Maybe I should go find Eris again. I’m sure he’d be happy to-“ you were cut off by Rhysand gripping your face in his large hand, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks.

He got inches away from your face. Rhysand looked like he snapped. “Don’t even think about it.” He growled. Feyre gently pulled him off you, pushing him behind her. She dragged a nail down your cheek scratching you slightly. “You just wanted our attention, huh?”

You just kept eye contact with Feyre and narrowed your eyes. She brought her fingers back up to your face, pinching your cheek. “Answer me sweetheart.” You flinched at the slight pain and started to nod, “Yes.” You breathed out.

Darkness consumed your vision and the world temporarily fell away. When you resurfaced, the three of you were back in your bedroom. Rhysand and Feyre trapped you between them. Their hands all over your body. Their lips ghosting your exposed skin.

You shiver under their touch yearning for more. Wanting them to touch you and do the most depraved things to you. Rhysand runs a thumb over your nipple earning a small whimper from you. “Please,” you whispered.

Feyre let out a dark chuckle. “What do you think Rhys? Should we teach our little sweetheart a lesson?” He let out a hum that you felt reverberate in his chest. “What should we start with?”