#nessian heards

[gwandas]

I think we should gatekeep Nesta from people who didn't like her before ACOSF

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Omega Ours - Part 2 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader | Short Series 3.4k

Nesta and Cassian try to stay away from you, but your heat is just so irrisitable...

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, claiming & knotting! Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, anal sex, use of toys, oral sex, dp, creampie, dirty talk, bit of degredation/humiliation/teasing very much under-negotiated. NSFW. Filth.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources patient beta reading and mutual squealing from @christywantspizza ❤️

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 7 free day so ... Have some disgusting smut because I wish I was in a Nessian sandwich!

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Part 1 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

“Nesta -” Cassian’s voice was a low warning growl, you kept your eyes closed as the bed dipped. 

You felt worse, if anything, not better. Their scent was everywhere. On the sheets where you’d heard them make love night after night, on the pillow where the scent of Nesta’s soap lingered. Your heart was racing, your palms hot and sticky with sweat and that sick, dizzy feeling made the room spin. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried. 

Then there was a cooling hand on your forehead, fingers long and delicate, Nesta. Without thinking, you sighed into the touch, rolling towards her. 

“Nesta, we talked about this, we need to get off the bed now.” Cassian’s voice was so far away, floating from the doorway, but Nesta’s was a balm against your aching mind, whispered in your ear. 

“She doesn’t want me to leave, Cas, and you don’t want to leave either.” 

“No, I don’t, but she made it quite clear -” 

You were drowning in them, their presence, their very beings, the hum of magic that Nesta seemed to emit wherever she went, the swell of power behind Cassian’s syphons, it called to you. Your body was its own, separate from your will, arching off the bed with a whimper. 

“Fuck,” Cassian was closer now, his hand touching your cheek, you nuzzled into it, the callouses on his hands were rough but his palm was a dry warmth, comforting. 

The throbbing that had started in your chest moved down and you recognised the dull ache between your legs. A flush rippled over you, sending goosebumps in its wake and the humiliating feel of slick between your thighs. 

“Hmm - exactly, Cas, fuck.” Nesta sounded as gone as you did, her nose tracing the line of your jaw. “I know you’re awake, sweetheart,” she cooed. Her hands slid over your body, tracing down your side and then up over your stomach and between your breasts. Naked under the blankets, your nipples pebbled when she rubbed a thumb over each nub. 

The bed moved, and Cassian’s hand joined Nesta’s, cupping your full breast and squeezing gently. You moaned in response, trapped between them, your thighs wet with arousal, sliding over each other. 

And then your eyes flew open and the reality of your situation dawned on you. 

“What-?” 

Nesta’s head dipped to nuzzle at your neck, her teeth scraping over the delicate skin and that primal side of you wanted to go lax, to let her scent you and bite you and claim you. But you wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow yourself to give in. 

Cassian’s hand was still holding you, his wings flaring behind him, taking up every inch of your eyeline, each movement sending tingles down your spine. His smile was low, hungry and his hazel eyes flicked down to your lips before looking over your shoulder at his mate. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll take good care of you,” his voice rumbled. 

Angry, you sat up, your head swimming, and pushed their hands away. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you insisted, "I can take care of myself.”

With difficulty, you scrambled from the bed, dragging the sheet with you to keep your naked body covered. “If you insist,” Nesta purred, her finger trailing down your back as she passed, moving slowly towards the door. “You can probably deal with this alone, omega.” 

Cassian followed, towering over you as he tipped your chin up with one long finger. “You could deal with it alone, this is your heat after all. But if you need some help, you only have to ask.” He ran his hand over your cheek and down your neck before following Nesta from the room. 

As soon as the door was shut, you threw yourself back on the bed. You knew from their own activities that there were toys and oils in the little table by the bed and it was here you went first, pulling open the drawer and rummaging around until you found a beautiful crystal toy, it was long and phallic, not an unfamiliar shape, but you’d never been able to afford something beautiful before. 

It was blissfully cold against your heated skin, sliding between your folds and you welcomed the stretch as you eased the toy inside, sighing as you lazed back into the bed. You moved the toy slowly, finding a rhythm that had you clenching on the unrelenting material. The haze took over again and you allowed your eyes to close, revelling in the relief of being full. 

Cassian was right, this was a heat and you were sure you could handle it yourself, even if you’d never had to deal with a heat near an Alpha, let alone two, where their heavy presence remained even when they were gone, their scent, the feel of their hands. You tugged at your own nipple, remembering the feel of Nesta’s fingers. Before you could stop yourself, you were sighing her name, imagining that she was still curled up behind you, taking control of the toy between your legs. Then there was Cassian. When you were feeling so vulnerable and dizzy he had kept you steady, his agreement that this was something you could weather seemed genuine, but so was his offer to help. 

They hadn’t been what you expected, this strong, warrior like couple and you moaned again. “Cassian.” 

The toy stopped, a delicate hand moving yours away and taking over, the new angle brushing against your swollen clit. 

“I knew you wanted us,” Nesta’s clear voice made it through the haze, your will to fight fading as she worked the toy harder, pressing up just as a large hand smoothed over your lower stomach. Stars exploded in your vision and you reached out grabbing at them both as you rode out your orgasm. 

Above you, Cassian leaned over, cupping Nesta’s face and pulling her into him. They kissed with such passion you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

Hazel and blue-grey eyes turned towards you, their gaze piercing, taking in your sweaty forehead, open mouth and pleading eyes. 

Nesta ran a thumb over your lip. “Do you require some help, sweetheart?” Her voice was a tease, making you throb with need. You didn’t hesitate to nod. Her thumb was replaced with her tongue, teasing along the seam of your lips before dipping inside, claiming and tasting you. Cassian continued moving the toy slowly inside, the ripples of your orgasm still making you twitch. 

Nesta’s lips were replaced with Cassian’s, his pressure harder, more insistent and you luxuriated in the feel of them moving around you, taking control of your body. Cassian slid the toy from you and the feeling of emptiness made you whine with need, grabbing at the two alphas. 

“I knew you’d be wet for us,” Nesta hummed, and you opened your eyes in time to see her lick your arousal from the length of the toy. Her hand cupped you between your legs, fingers teasing. “Your pussy’s so wet you’ve soaked the sheets, I knew it.” Her grin was feral, like a cat after cornering a mouse. 

“Let me taste.” Cassian brought Nesta’s fingers to his lips and sucked lewdly. 

You were empty again and this time your whimper did not go unnoticed. “Does someone need their pussy filled?” Nesta pouted at you, her eyebrows raised. 

“Yes, yes, please - I - please,” you begged, the fog of your heat taking over your ability to think. All you could see was them, all you could feel and all that you wanted. 

Nesta turned you to face her, cradling your body into her chest. Instinctively, you licked at a rosy nipple, taking the bud into your mouth and sucking hard until Nesta gasped. 

“Good girl,” she soothed, petting the back of your head, “You’ll need to bite down on something when he pushes in.” Her hand hooked your thigh up over her hip, opening you up and then you felt the blunt, wide head of Cassian’s cock nudging at your entrance and - she was right. 

“Oh Gods,” you moaned, pushing your face further into Nesta’s chest, breath heaving as you adjusted to his size. 

“You’re doing so well.” She stroked your back over the curve of your bottom and then back up with her nails, soothing then scratching in turn. The mixture of pleasure and pain was enough to confuse your already addled brain and, before you could register it, Cassian was flush against your back, panting in your ear. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good on my cock, so tight.” He kissed behind your ear, the gentle gesture so at odds with the rough cant of his hips. “We’ll fuck you through this heat, don’t worry.” 

“I can- I can do it on my own,” You insisted meekly, meeting Nesta’s storm grey eyes. 

“Of course you can.” She bent and kissed you gentle. “You’re doing so well, getting through this heat. It’s okay to ask for help. We’ll help you, won’t we, baby?” 

“Of course we will,” Cassian grunted, his thrusts slow and steady but deep, so deep, so full. 

When their eyes met, Nesta mirrored Cassian’s smile, knowing and understanding and teasing and Alpha. They’d take care of you, you knew they would, and you’d be satisfied and satiated by the end but you would be theirs, there would be no arguing your way out of this. 

Your eyes rolled as Cassian hit a particularly delicious spot, sending shooting pleasure up your spine, “Gods, Cassian - I” 

“Come for him,” Nesta instructed and you couldn’t stop yourself, your body obeyed before your mind could argue, pleasure washing over you so fast you had to dig your nails into Nesta’s arms to hold on, so sure you’d be pulled along by it. 

You recovered slowly, floating in a daze of post coital bliss only to find yourself sat above Cassian, the general sprawled below you, his hair like a devilish halo on the white pillow cases and his handsome face contorted with pleasure. That deep ache was still inside, making you grind your clit down against him and it was then you realised he was still buried inside of you, his cock twitching with every movement of your hips. 

“You look so pretty when you come for us.” He held your hips in his hands, keeping you seated despite your surprised attempt at getting up. “You can’t pretend anymore.” 

Nesta’s hands joined Cassian’s, twining together to hold you down, her chin resting on your shoulder. How did she move like that, so silent and stealthy? “I know what you need now, you need to be fucked and filled, isn’t that right?” 

You keened, leaning back into her arms, allowing her hands to travel up to your breasts and circle your nipples again. 

“I said, isn’t that right?” Her hand moved over your collarbone, coming to rest at the base of your throat where her fingers pressed down on your pulse. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes - I - I need to be -,” you stuttered, still reluctant to give in to the omega side of you that really did need this, needed to have their body used and filled and be given pleasure. 

“Come on.” Cassian thrust up inside, his cock so deep you were sure you could see it in your belly.

“I need to be fucked and filled.” 

“Good girl.” Nesta rewarded you with a kiss to your cheek. “Now for the last part, you need to be fucked and filled, by…” 

“I need to be fucked and filled by my Alphas. Oh Gods, please, please, I need to move.” You ground your hips again and Cassian obliged, fucking up into you, his feet planted on the bed to keep him steady. 

Behind you, Nesta moved again, her fingers tracing down your spine and the scent of lavender oil filling the room. Her hands cupped your bottom, helping to lift and lower you onto Cassian’s cock, controlling each movement. Cassian’s hands covered hers, spreading you open and pulling you forwards so you were completely exposed to Nesta’s hungry gaze. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” She dipped her finger into the slick flowing over Cassian’s cock. You couldn’t stop the feel of it, dripping between you, easing the way for him. Her finger returned, circling the tight pucker of muscle Cassian’s exploring hands exposed. “Let’s see if we can fill you some more.” 

The first press of her fingertip felt strange, but as she curled and worked her finger deeper pleasure spread up from your back. She was right, it felt so good to be full, a second finger joined her first, scissoring until the pressure was gone and only pleasure remained. 

“Nesta - please,” you begged incoherently, unsure of what you even needed from her, chasing the feeling. 

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Her fingers were replaced by the still body warm head of the crystal toy. 

“Fuck, Nes, push it in harder.” Cassian gritted his teeth, his grip moving you lightly and then you both shouted in pleasure, the toy pushing against the thin wall separating it from his cock. 

“So full, so full, so ful,-” you babbled, much to Nesta’s amusement, her dark laugh in your ear had you clenching around the hard cocks inside of you. 

Cassian’s hand took over from Nesta’s keeping the toy inside and allowing you the freedom to grind down onto him again. 

Free to move, Nesta appeared before you. 

“There’s our little cock hungry omega, nice and full and satisfied.” She ran a finger around your open mouth before dipping it inside to tap your tongue. “Now you stay there,” she instructed, moving up the bed to hover over Cassian. 

“Yes, Nes, you come here. Been working so hard to take care of our little omega, come and sit down.” 

Cassian’s face vanished between Nesta’s thighs, the muscles tensing and relaxing as she lowered herself. You watched, fascinated, as her perfect face twisted with pleasure, the controlled look in her eyes and crooked smile gone. She closed her eyes, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples as she’d done to yours. You ached to reach out and touch her, to lick the dusky bud again, to taste her and feel her, to run your fingers through her hair. 

Your hand twitched forwards, grabbing her thigh and squeezing. Nesta moaned in return, her eyes shooting open and locking with you while she rolled her hips, taking her pleasure from her mate, using his mouth and tongue until she bit her bottom lip and tipped her head back, panting and moaning through her release. 

She fell backwards onto the bed, resting her head on her arm and continuing to gently circle her nipple, riding the waves of her orgasm. 

You watched, catching Cassian’s eyes as he too turned to view his mate, her legs spread and wet pussy glistening in the candle light. With a tap to your hip, you reached up, releasing his cock with an obscene squelch, but you had no ability to be humiliated by your position, half full of her toy, crawling towards her as if possessed. Your own legs were so wet they slid as you moved and Cassian took the opportunity to nip at your thigh as you made your way to Nesta. 

She was smiling, long lashes fluttering on her cheeks as she rested, but she must have felt you approaching because she beckoned you on, cupping the back of your head and pulling you down for a sloppy kiss. 

Her long fingers gathered your slick, smearing it over your folds, your clit, back towards where the toy still split you open, and cupped your cheeks, parting them for Cassian. 

The male was behind you again and gave the toy a few experimental thrusts, revelling in the way you whimpered and moaned, depending on how he angled the head. You could practically feel his grin when he pressed a kiss to the base of your spine, nipping at the round globe of your ass and pulling the toy free, leaving it to roll off the bed onto the thick rug. 

You whined, completely empty and still needy, humping forwards into Nesta’s teasing hand, her kisses just as biting, just as harsh, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth and worrying the delicate flesh. 

Cassian’s voice was gravelly when he whispered in your ear, “Ask us nicely, omega. Ask us to fill your wet little cunt and your greedy hole.” 

“Please, please, fill me, please, fuck me!” you panted, hips moving of their own accord, seeking any friction they could find. 

Nesta cupped your cheek. “Open your eyes.” You obliged, meeting her own lust filled gaze. “Now beg.” 

You cried out in frustration, “Please, Alpha, please I need it, I need you, I can’t do it - help me - please - help me. Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-” You dropped your forehead to hers, pleading, praying. 

Then, you felt Cassian’s cock again, not parting your folds as he’d done before, but running it between your cheeks and pressing against the gap left by the crystal toy. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked again.

“Yes, Alpha, fuck me, take me, please, I need your cock - I need - ahh.” The first push was long and deep, he was merciless, splitting you open. 

“Gods, you feel good everywhere, ‘mega.” Cassian’s kisses returned, wet and hot along your shoulders. “Nesta -,” he grunted and the female slid her hand back between your legs, shoving three fingers into your already sloppy pussy without hesitation. 

“Look how well you take us, sweetheart. Letting your Alphas use all of your holes like a good little omega. Just a hole for us to fuck aren’t you?” she cooed, pinching your cheeks again. “Cassian’s been dying to fuck me like this for years, haven’t you?” He only grunted in answer, his pace increasing. You could barely breathe now, every inhale punched out of you by the force of his fucking. “But I wouldn’t let him. Good job we’ve got our own little plaything now. You take him so well, made for it, aren’t you?” she continued to tease and you burned with the humiliation of it, the deliciously dirty feeling of being spread open, used, vulnerable under their hands. And yet you had never felt pleasure like it, the complete surrender of your thoughts, your body, to your two Alphas. 

The thought had you tingling. Were they yours now? Were you theirs? 

Cassian’s pace slowed, his hips faltering as he hurtled towards his release. His long hair brushed against your cheek. “Never letting you go, omega. You’re ours now.” His teeth scrapped down the side of your neck and you shivered, making the decision in a split second, and tilting your head to the side. Cassian’s bite was strong, his teeth breaking your skin quickly before his tongue lapped over the sore spot. He nuzzled into you as he sucked the bruising kiss, inhaling your scent. 

Nesta reached up, guiding your head towards Cassian’s and exposing the other side of your throat before biting down too. Her claim was rougher, her teeth tasting, exploring before biting down and sucking. 

“Yours - yours - yours -” You allowed their claiming bites to consume you, to wash over your senses, and felt the calm of being mated rising to meet you, buoying you up. 

“Good little omega,” Nesta praised, tapping your cheek until you opened your eyes. Hers were surprisingly soft, her mouth wet and lips pink. 

“Such a good - fuck - good fucking omega, our omega,” Cassian grunted, sending you over the edge.

“Yours - yours - yours -” Your orgasm ran towards you and you clenched down on them both, forcing Nesta’s fingers out as your walls rippled. You bent and sucked on her collarbone, needing something, anything, to ground you. 

“Fuck -” Cassian followed, his hips driving forward, pushing you down further into Nesta’s chest and painting you with his release. His cock swelled, impossibly large and pressing against your entrance. His cum leaked around the edges of his knot, mixing with your own release in a sticky, claiming, mess. There’d be no denying your feelings now. 

He withdrew slowly, carefully, his hand cupping your swollen sex as he did and the gentleness of the touch surprised you. 

The three of you lay there, panting and sweating, slick soaked and satisfied until Cassian broke the silence. 

“Does this mean you’ll sleep in the damn bed now?” You turned into his chest, resting your face against his tattoos, and laughed, nodding. Behind you, Nesta curled over your back and smiled into your shoulder. 

“Good.”

[ceoofyearning]

All I Want - Cassian

Pairing: Cassian x Bestfriend! Reader Summary: When Nesta Archeron dropped into Cassian’s life with the cataclysmic force of silver wildfire, you took one look at them and knew you missed your chance. There’s no fighting against a mating bond. But that hasn’t stopped the memory of him from haunting you since.  Except there he is, decades later, just across the room, watching you watch him. Rating & Warnings: T/M | Hurt & Comfort, angst to fluff, PAST Nessian, recreational mirthroot use, alcohol, suggestive but nothing explicit (lmk if i miss anything else) Word Count: 4.4k Links: Masterlist

A part of you had always craved to see the rest of the world, and when you got the chance to work in the Day Court three decades ago, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. With how things were, it seemed like the perfect excuse to leave. After all, it’s not as if you had a reason to stay. The mating bond between snapping Nesta and Cassian had made sure of that. 

In many ways, leaving felt like the easier choice - to shed your past and start anew in a court where no one knew you - a clean slate. Mother knows you needed one. 

Your work for Helion involves acquiring ancient texts and artifacts for the One Thousand Libraries of Day. It required you to travel all over Phythian, even as far as the continent to procure these items yourself. You adore your job and enjoy the freedom it affords you, but when you were given the opportunity to go back to Velaris to manage the satellite division connected to the Great Library, a part of you had been reluctant to agree. Coming back meant facing your past. And that, more than anything, was terrifying. 

It has been a few weeks since your return to the City of Stars. Although you didn’t have much time outside of work, you do try to maintain a semblance of a social life. Mor made sure of that. When you first met her a few centuries ago, Mor had taken one look at you, a broken, wingless half-Ilyrian female, and decided that the two of you must become friends. Perhaps she saw a piece of herself in you, in your defiance against a world that was out to get you. 

You had been close friends with Mor in the past, and the moment she heard you were back in town, she reached out to reconnect. You appreciated it immensely, of course. Going back and having to build a life for yourself in Velaris after all these years of being gone seems less daunting with a friend by your side. So when Mor asks you to go out, you try to go whenever you can afford to, desperate to grasp at chances to belong, despite yourself. Tonight, Mor practically dragged you out of your apartment for drinks and to briefly attend a ball in the Moonstone Palace. 

“I don’t understand why Emerie is allowed to pass,” you grumble morosely as you peer up the warmly-lit exterior of Rita’s. 

“Because Em hasn’t been hiding out in the library for the past week,” Mor counters blithely. 

“I was busy,” you retort in vain, knowing full well that all resistance is futile. 

“You’re always busy,” Mor retorts, throwing an arm around your neck. Your friend is clad in her usual skin-tight red dress, exuding self-confidence with each step she takes. You shoot her a look of sheer betrayal, and she laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender. “It’s for your own good. You deserve to have fun too, you know?” Mor says with exaggerated gravity, which has you rolling your eyes. 

You sigh, and pad after her, knowing there is no use trying to argue now that she has already dragged you here. You practically trip over yourself on your borrowed heels, as you try to adjust the straps of the dress Mor had squeezed you into. It’s a resplendent satin dress with a terrifyingly low neckline and an even terrifyingly high slit up your left thigh. To her credit, however, the black dress fits you like a glove, a testament to Mor’s eye for fashion. With much effort, you banish the thoughts of all your responsibilities and deadlines to the void. Fine, you’ll try to have fun tonight, at least. 

You would've been happy enough with a simple dinner, maybe even some wine, but of course, Mor idea of fun rarely coincides with yours. The initial plan is to have just a few drinks at a nice, quiet bar - catch up a bit, and have a good laugh. But as the night progressed, Mor had piled you with more and more alcohol, and you became more amenable to going along with her unhinged plans. 

It starts with you moving to another bar, then another, until you finally find yourselves right in the middle of the overcrowded dance floor in the Moonstone Palace. To call this gathering a ball would be far too generous. Sometime in the night, the party had devolved to the very picture of debauchery. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled liquor, and bad decisions. It’s a good thing you were drunk enough to not mind the overwhelming press of bodies against you. You could even admit that there’s some comfort to be had in being just another face lost in the crowd - free to enjoy the music, to simply be. The beat seems to reverberate throughout the whole room, through your bones, pulling you and everyone else into movement, like a collective heartbeat. Amidst the sea of nameless, gyrating bodies, that’s where you catch a glimpse of him - a slip of darkness, flickering in and out of view as the kaleidoscope of colors shifts overhead. 

Cassian.

Your attention doesn’t go unnoticed for long. His hazel eyes catch yours, and for a moment, the world stops existing. There is only you, and him and the weight of all the love, heartache and desolation between you. A blink, and reality returns to its normal unrelenting pace.

His muscled frame is evident even from a distance, the outline of his strong shoulders and defined arms visible beneath the blank long-sleeved shirt he wore. Intricate tattoos peek through the opened buttons of his shirt, their dark lines running from his neck, chest, down to his forearms. 

You knew Cassian back when you still lived in the Night Court, fancied yourself in love with his charming smile and penchant for mischief. More than anything, you admired him for his kindness. He had been the one to help you escape the camps, even helped set you up here in Velaris. As a half-Ilyrian female with no wings or any significant Ilyrian power, you don’t doubt that staying would have been a death sentence. Or worse. 

Afterward, the two of you had spent the better part of the last two centuries circling one another. You didn’t know the name of what you had with Cassian, but the two of you had preferred it that way, not wanting to risk your friendship. You never had the courage to ask for more, not even when you desperately wanted to. But when Nesta Archeron had dropped into his life with the cataclysmic force of silver wildfire, you took one look at them and knew you missed your chance. There’s no fighting against a mating bond. But that hasn’t stopped the memory of him from haunting you since. 

Except there he is, decades later, just across the room, watching you watch him. 

You heard from the grapevine that, seven years ago, after a failed explosive engagement and years of falling in and out of each other's beds, he and Nesta had finally called it quits. The eldest Archeron sister, Lady Death, had moved to the ruins of Dusk to seek her own destiny, to carve the story of her glory onto the earth. Cassian, on the other hand, had decided to remain here in the Night Court. 

A glint of recognition burns in his hazel eyes. For you, Cassian had always been the one that got away. Despite yourself, you find comfort in the thought that it might not have been easy for him to forget you, too.

You can feel your heart beat violently against your chest, threatening to break free from your ribcage. You can’t tell whether it's from anticipation, or a deep-rooted instinct that this? This is very dangerous territory, not unlike walking back into a battlefield you just managed to escape. Regardless of your better judgment, a smile makes its way to your lips, because, in the end, you’re happy to see him.

And Cassian smiles back. 

Throughout the night, you watch Cassian from the corner of your eye, and you feel his gaze on you in return. Sometime in the evening, you lose Mor in the crowd, covertly swept away by a gorgeous Ilyrian female in black. You, in turn, are left precariously perched on a stool, nursing a glass of water. You swallow your disappointment while contemplating the logistics of winnowing home whilst being utterly tipsy, and conclude that you’re more likely to be spliced across time and space than to reach your destination. 

Instead, you give yourself a few minutes to loiter by one of the palace’s expansive balconies, trying to get sober enough to depart. You’ve lost your shoal sometime during the party, but the crisp night air feels great against your heated skin, helping clear your mind. You recline against the chaise, before crossing your ankles and shutting your eyes. You stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the muted music and the blessed solitude. 

Your peace doesn’t last long, however. You hear a familiar set of footsteps approach, followed by the telltale groan of the chaise beside you. 

“You’re back,” he sounds breathless, disbelieving as though he hasn’t quite figured out if he’s dreaming. You’d know the calming cadence of his voice anywhere, in the dreaming, even in death. 

“Cassian,” you sigh, just as breathless, just as dismantled by his presence. Finally, your eyes flutter open to peer up at him. You swallow the lump in your throat, and he watches the movement, transfixed. 

You drink in the sight of him like you’re lost in a desert, and he’s the only oasis to be found. His long, wavy locks of midnight-black hair cascade over his shoulders, half pulled back into a disheveled bun behind his head. Loose curls frame his rugged features. He looks sharper, hewn from the toughest steel, but there was a familiar warmth in those hazel eyes.

“I thought I saw you,” he smiles, and your mind nearly implodes at the sight of the dimple on his right cheek. Memories flash, and you remember languid afternoons spent pressing kisses over the same dimple, your nose buried in his neck, your hands tracing shapes over his chest. The moment his hand lands on your knee, however, you snap out of it.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you notify him pointedly because you are done giving pieces of yourself to this man, no matter how charming he can be, not without anything tangible in return.

He raises his hands over his head, as if in surrender, all the while giving you a crooked grin, “Hey, my intentions are pure, Sunshine. I just wanted to catch up.”

And that statement would have been perfectly fine, you think, if he hadn’t just called you that. Sunshine. God, how you used to love every time he said it, how your heart soared every time he spoke those two syllables. It made you feel special, seen. Now, all it leaves is the scent of smoke in your lungs and the taste of devastation in your tongue

“Cassian, Please,” and you hope to The Mother you sound casual, light, sarcastic even; and not like you’re about to swallow your own damn tongue. “Your intentions are as perpetually black as Azriel’s shadows.”

“I resent that,” he huffs petulantly. “I’m perfectly capable of having a chaste conversation.”

“Right.” You laugh, a real one this time, and Cassian holds his chest in feigned offense. “I just got back, and the first thing you do is lie to me? For shame, Cassian, for shame,” you tease, and a lovely shade of pink invades his cheeks, much to his chagrin. 

As you settle further into the cushions, you ask, "What have you been up to? Those Illyrian Warlords still giving you trouble?"

Cassian leans back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I hardly involve myself in the military anymore," he admits, his tone tinged with an equal measure of relief and exhaustion. "I'm tired of the battlefields, the bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of it for several lifetimes. I want to build, not to destroy; to something new, something greater than myself."

And that’s when you see it - the weariness from the weight of all that violence, from the stains those lost lives have left on his hands. They may have called him the Lord of Bloodshed, and he may have been good at it even, Cassian - at his core - has always had a kind and tender heart. You don’t blame him for wanting to leave that life. 

You nod in understanding. “What are you going to do?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

A spark lights up in his eyes, and his smile returns, softer this time. “I’m not entirely sure yet,” he confesses. “But I want it to be something that helps people, that brings more good into the world. The Valkyries were a great start, but I want to build a place for people like us, my mother, the outcasts - a safe place for all the females, the children and the bastards brutalized by this world. I want to give them a chance for a kinder life.”

Your chest aches, and you reach out, taking his hand in yours. “That sounds wonderful, Cassian.”

He squeezes your hand gently, his eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He studies you for another long moment, hazel eyes taking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time, as if you held the answer to a question he’s spent a long, long time asking himself. His gaze softens.

As the evening stretches on, you and Cassian talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing effortlessly like the constant ebb and flow of the Sidra. Despite what happened in the past, this thing between you two feels natural, almost as if no time has passed. Sitting there with him, you realize how much you've missed this, missed him. Cassian had been your savior, your family, and your closest friend before everything went wrong, and perhaps, that’s the one thing you mourned the most: his presence in your life, regardless of who he was to you. Reconnecting with him now felt like being ripped apart and remade all in one breath. 

Then, he pulls out a pipe from his pocket, and promptly sticks it in between his teeth. You watch, half mesmerized by the way he lights it before taking a slow, steady drag. He breathes it in with practiced ease, before releasing a truly remarkable cloud of smoke. He must’ve noticed you staring because he looks at you and wordlessly offers you a puff. “Remember this?”

You eye him dubiously, “How could I forget.” It’s the same gem-encrusted pipe you had given him as a joke all those years ago, knowing how much he hated unnecessary finery. He had stared at it in horror when you first presented it to him years ago. That he kept it surprised you. 

Memories of the two of you locked in his room come into mind. Your lips on his, bodies entwined as a bowl of mirthroot burns at the bedside table. 

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t do mirthroot anymore?” He asks, his grin growing wider. “What is it? Forgotten to have fun?”

Refusing to give him the satisfaction, you retort instead, “I haven’t.” 

“Prove it then,” he challenges, as he taps off some of the ash that has accumulated in the mouth of the pipe. 

You shouldn’t, really. But it’s been a shitty night, and an even shittier month. Mor was right. You’ve been running yourself ragged. And, in truth, you just needed a night where you could forget the rest of your life, even if it’s only temporary 

“Well,” you say as you take the pipe from him, “If anyone needs a bit more mirth in their life, it would be me.”

Cassian chuckles, “And me.” The two of you mime clinking glasses as a show of commiseration, before bursting into raucous laughter. 

You toy with the pipe for a few seconds, turning it over your fingers. It may have seemed like reluctance, but in reality, you were trying to remember the last time you allowed yourself to relax. You realize that it has been a very long while. With one deep breath, the earthy smoke fills your lungs, and you let it linger before you breathe it out. Not without being hit by a coughing fit though, much to Cassian’s amusement. 

“Don’t,” you warn him. 

And of course, he doesn’t heed you, and instead says, “You’re adorable.” 

Before you can say anything else, he takes the pipe and squeezes himself beside you onto the scant space left on the chaise. You let him. It is as though the two of you can’t help but gravitate towards each other, twin stars pulled together by the same cosmic force; even after everything, even after years of silence, of insurmountable distance.

The chaise makes an impressive effort to hold the both of you, and it takes some truly impressive maneuvering for the two of you to fit. He’s turned towards you while you lay half-sprawled across his chest, your leg thrown over his thighs to lock around his calf. His wing curls over you, encasing you within his warmth. Your hand is over his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart echoing your own. It's comforting to know that, even after all that has happened, the two of you still fit together like long-lost pieces of a single puzzle.

“Here, let me,” he takes another hit, easily inhaling and exhaling the silvery smoke as if that alone is enough instruction. He hands it to you once more.

You give him a withering look, but take it from him anyway. Once more you try your best to take the smoke in, but it elicits another coughing fit when you breathe it out. 

“Mother’s tits,” you mutter between coughs. Meanwhile, Cassian looks far too delighted at watching your miserable attempts to get high. 

“Do you want me to help?” he cryptically proposes with a hopeful look on his face, and you see the question for what it is. “You can say no anytime,” he assures you. 

In lieu of an answer, you inch closer, your face angled to fit with his, and you wonder if this is how a sunflower feels when it turns to face the sun. He only gives you one of his unfairly dashing smiles, before he takes another long drag. But this time, he keeps it in, as he cups your face and presses his thumb down your lower lip to coax your mouth open for him.

“Like this,” he whispers, his lips a mere centimeter away from yours. You’re practically vibrating with want, counting the infinities between seconds before you can taste his lips again. The smoke escapes his lips in languid swirls as you pull him down by the nape into a kiss. 

Cassian smiles against your lips.

The world is gradually shifting around you, like tectonic plates converging to recreate the world anew. The both of you shudder at the contact. This isn’t a cataclysm, not a world-ending explosion, but a realization, an answer to an overdrawn question. Cassian kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world to spare. It’s a languid back and forth of shared breaths and the seamless glide of his chapped lips on yours.

The feel of him is familiar and foreign all at once. The taste of rum lingers on his tongue as he licks into your mouth, swallowing the moan that comes out of you unbidden. You don’t know how long you stay in that hazy bliss, reacquainting yourselves with each other, just breathing the other in. 

But when he pulls away, he tugs on your bottom lip as if to make a final point. And what a totally valid point it is. You are convinced - so convinced, in fact, that you decide you aren’t going to smack him over the head for ruining you completely. The smug smirk on his face, by all means, would normally piss you off, but you find yourself smiling back instead.

“Was that better?” He inquires, batting his doe eyes at you innocently like he hadn’t just obliterated all rational thought in your head with his touch alone. 

“I can’t tell…” you trail off in feigned consideration. “I think you’ll have to do it again, just to be sure.” 

His nose scrunches in the most adorable way as he scoffs. Nonetheless, he humors you, lifting the pipe to his lips and inhaling another long drag.

“This is purely for science,” you inform him, running your thumb tenderly over his cheekbone. 

He nods in mock seriousness, before adding, “An experiment of sorts.” 

“Exactly,” you agree, as you tug on the curls on the back of his head to pull him down for another kiss. 

Cassian offers to fly you home, and you accept despite the both of you knowing that you’re perfectly capable and sober enough to winnow back on your own. Cassian scoops you up in the cradle of his strong arms, and you can’t help but let out a small gasp as the massive shadow of his wings unfurl. With a few beats, you’re in the air, soaring high above the mountainside. You barely have the presence of mind to erect the barrier for the two of you to keep the cold at bay. 

The flight to your apartment takes longer than it should because Cassian can’t keep his damn hands to himself long enough to take seven consecutive wingbeats. You indulge him, of course. With your arms around his neck, his lips find yours time and time again. Below, Velaris is a spread of starlight, like a reflection of the night sky overhead. You’ve got no viable defense for your actions, only that you missed him immensely, and deep in your soul, you know you still want him. You’re afraid that you always will. 

But as you arrive at your apartment, the both of you walk up to the door. Cassian tells you he’ll see you tomorrow and moves to leave you with one final peck on the lips, but you maintain your firm grip on his collar.

“You’re leaving?” You ask, your brows scrunched and your mouth agape. 

He chuckles at your confusion, his lips once again to that signature crooked grin you adore far too much.

“Oh? Did you want me to stay?” he asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a painfully gentle touch.

You huff out an exasperated breath, giving him a pointed look. “Cassian, if I didn't, you wouldn't even be here,” you retort, trying to mask the warmth his gesture ignited. 

“Why?” He presses further. “What did you have in mind, pretty girl?” 

That truth is this: you don’t think you could bear parting with him again, not when you just got him back. You don’t think that losing Cassian is something your heart can survive twice. 

His hand makes a slow descent from the back of your head, to your cheekbone, then to your jaw before gently tipping your face up to meet his gaze. A shiver runs down your spin at the intensity of his gaze. 

Cassian languidly leads you against the wall, pressing his body against yours. You can feel the evidence of his want against you, while he begins to leave butterfly kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He urges again, in between kisses. “C’mon, tell me.” Then, he tugs on your lobe lightly, before whispering against your ear, “Tell me all the lovely thoughts running through your pretty little head.” 

A shuddering breath leaves your lips in response, your body reflexively arching into him. He slots his muscled thigh in between your legs while keeping a firm grip on your hips. Cassian, it seems, is as intent on keeping you as you are him. 

“Cassian,” you plead, “stay.” Your chest feels like a supernova on the verge of extinction. Fear and longing grip you in a hurricane of emotion, threatening to swallow you whole.

For a while, Cassian just watches you, completely laid bare for him, his to keep or his to break. 

“Cassian,” you repeat, the desperation in your tone palpable. 

He raises his hands in mock surrender once more, reminiscent of earlier that night, before saying, “Say please.” 

“I hate you,” you retort, but your body tells a different story. Without your approval, you realize your hands have slipped under his shirt, reflexively exploring the familiar terrain of his skin, while your lips press against the sensitive skin of his neck. 

Cassian sighs, melting beneath your touch, his playfulness giving way to a look of pure adoration. With an expression that leaves no room for doubt, he whispers, “Liar.” 

“Guilty,” you confess. 

He matches it with a confession of his own, “I love you.” Cassian's gaze is unbearably soft, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His voice is raw with sheer sincerity. "I've never forgotten you, never stopped thinking about you."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, the world pauses, forgets what it is to breathe. You search his face, seeing the truth reflected in forest eyes. A mixture of relief and joy washes over you, like a stream of cool water over scalded skin. Every moment you’ve shared, every glance, every touch, each joy and regret - has led to this moment.

You lean in closer, your forehead resting against his. "I love you too, Cassian,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I never stopped.”  At that moment, you’re certain that The Cauldron had made a mistake because every part of you is perfectly aligned with his, fitting together in a way that no one else ever could.

“Stay,” you implore him once more, your voice soft but earnest.

“Only if you promise to go on a date with me,” he says against your lips. 

You blink blearily up at him, your mind still lost in the moment. “A date?” you ask, almost in wonder. There was a time when the two of you spent everyday together, back when you were in the purgatory between best friends and something more. But in retrospect, you’ve never gone on an actual date. Despite everything you’ve done so far, the thought of going out with Cassian is what sends your heart racing.

“Okay,” you finally agree, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian’s smile is radiant, a bright light in this wretched world. And for the first time in a long while, you look forward to the future. 

Author’s Note: Hello! I’m new to this fandom & I’m so down bad I started writing fics again. I’d love to hear your thoughts 💙

+ This was literally supposed to be just Cassian + shotgunning but now there's plot so here we are.

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part one: the hold

Nessian x f!Reader

warnings: delusional reader & nesta, drinking

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other.

a/n: the first few chapters will center around Nesta before Cassian comes in! this has been my brainchild for a little while and I hope you all enjoy <3 if anyone wants to be added to a tag list please let me know!

series masterlist

Sharp breath fogging the air in front of her, Nesta set off for one of the only tasks, outside of imbibing, that didn’t quite feel like torture. Precise footsteps, steady and calm, took her down the sidewalk, hanging to the shadows, to her sanctuary. At the current hour she’d rarely seen another soul and each time she did it tended to sour her day. Not that it took much to do that recently.

Even with new Fae senses, she could tell when something was different in a space she frequented. Well, a tavern might be another story but this tiny bookstore tucked away in a far corner of Velaris wasn’t. Any other day she may have spun on her heel and stalked out, but the new Sellyn Drake novel released this morning and she’d kill to get her hands on it. Whoever this was, they did have an interesting scent. So warm and inviting it sickened her, perhaps even made her murderous.

A light headache set in. She glanced at the clock. 11:45. Today she’d make it to noon without a drink, that was good enough for her.

First, the book. Second, wine.

One foot in front of the other, crossing the floor with a dancer's grace, something years of separation from lessons couldn’t get rid of.

Eyes zoned in on the table, one copy left. A lucky day for her. Mouth curved up at the corners.

She was so focused on her target she didn’t notice you, but you didn’t notice her either, both of you set on a collision path.

Like right out of a Sellyn Drake novel, static zapped as your fingers touched, two hands retreating back, two bodies tensing, two heads snapping up and eyes locking.

Nesta was quickly enchanted by your touch - as chaotic as it was. Next, the small apologetic smile on your lips. You were speaking - words, fuck. She’d completely missed that.

“It’s all yours,” you repeated a tad slower, concern edging into your voice. Anyone else she would’ve chewed out for that. A better person would’ve let you have the book. At this moment, Nesta wasn’t a better person.

“Thanks,” she muttered and snatched it, spinning on your heel. A sharp intake of breath behind her.

Nesta paused, loosening her body and relaxing her stance, and looked over her shoulder, “what’s your name?”

You answered, and she repeated back, dragging out the last letter, watching you flush pink. A small smile on Nesta’s lips - the kind that screamed trouble, “I’m certain we’ll see each other around.”

“I certainly hope so,” you countered, that surprise she’d heard earlier replaced with an attitude that thrilled her. A little spice. Nesta figured out your scent - cloves, nutmeg, and honey. Her new favorite. She liked you, you’d have fun together.

-

Over the following days, thoughts of you consumed Nesta. Rolling over on her bed, the scents of various males lingering, she thought of how she’d get rid of that before she had you over. Because Nesta would have you. She needed you like oxygen, like books, like wine.

You didn’t know it yet, but you needed her too. If you didn’t, Nesta would make it so you did. She could be called many horrid things, but when she wanted something, she didn’t hesitate or hold back. Whatever you wanted, she would make it happen for you. You had her in a chokehold.

Looking back, she could pinpoint the moment when her obsession truly began - as soon as she identified and committed your scent to memory. Nesta hasn’t been able to put honey in her tea for far too long.

-

You thought of the blue-gray eyed beauty. Eyes so cold and harsh, but maybe you were imagining it but hadn’t they softened a tad for you? She was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. You supposed the place didn’t matter, not as long as you could get her next to you, above you, under you, down the aisle - you cut your mind off, thinking you’d gone way too far ahead for someone you had a thirty second encounter with at a bookshop. Even Sellyn Drake would think it was a tad ridiculous, that or he’d eat it up. Maybe you should pitch the idea and inspire his newest best seller.

Still, all you could think of was how she softened for you. She must have, you were certain of it now. The female followed up her harsh and probably standard remark with something sweet like asking your name. She wanted to know who you were, just as you wanted to know her now.

It took you a few minutes to compose yourself after meeting her. By the time you had, she was gone, and you realize you still didn’t know her name. Cursing, you sprinted towards the doors, whisper-shouting a sorry to the shop owner, even though nobody else was inside.

A flash of golden brown hair around the corner, perhaps a quarter of a mile down the street. It might not even be her, you frowned. With your luck, you’d chase all the way down just to terrorize a random citizen of Velaris.

Glancing around to check the street was empty first, you whispered a quiet ‘come back,’ a soft plea to the mystery female, the mother, and the universe to bring her back to you.

‘Too much,’ the annoyingly logical part of your brain said, but they were easily ignored and even easier to drown out.

If it came to it you could go back to that same bookstore, at the same time, and perhaps run across her again. On the other hand, you could let her find you. She seemed like the type of female who enjoyed a chase, and like a resourceful one. Oryou were reading too many books and your mind came up with outlandish fantasies. Not that outlandish, some of your friends had told you particularly tantalizing stories and you felt an inherent desire to live out one of your own, no matter how it might hurt you in the future. It would.

[violetasteracademic]

I saw someone say they don't like Elriel simply because Azriel and Elain don't do it for them as a couple. They just aren't into the emo boy/flower girl dynamic. And truth be told? That's the most respectable anti take I've ever heard. Because there is no right or wrong, there's no points to argue. It's just like, hey, I see it, and I don't like it. Which is kind of how I feel about G*wynriel and E*lucien as well. So it's genuinely just a really fair and uncomplicated take.

I simply *don't like* forced proximity with the person that has already been assigned to you and eventually falling in love with them, then realizing it's for the best anyways because it will solve a bunch of conflicts as much as I *like* fuck fate and fuck politics and fuck the Gods, you are the person I want and I will burn the whole world down to be with you. If it goes against every rule, if it puts us in the front line of every danger, and tears at the very fabric of society, it still will be you for me and I'll do whatever it takes.

And that's just vibes, there's really not much more to say!

I *don't like* I was completely obsessed with two different women, but after being rejected by both of them I finally realized, thank goodness! I've had a mate this whole time! And I saved her from being r*ped by a bunch more men than just one years ago and then trained with her every day and now that I'm finally free of being in love with other women, I finally have noticed what is right in front of me as much as I *like* your mate is sleeping upstairs and if he catches us he will have every right to demand I fight to the death over you but I literally can't stop wanting you and needing you and questioning fate because I don't understand how we aren't meant to be together.

I know for a fact I won't like a G*wynriel or E*lucien book *as much* as Elriel because I have read those sorts of similar vibes or comparable plot points before, and it's just like, meh. Not for me. My least favorite trope is the guy who suddenly realizes his best gal pal is the one he should have been into all along after only going for beautiful women he thought were way out of his league. That's not romantic to me at all. But I respect that it is to others. I think it's perfectly okay to simply vibe with different things.

Do I think the books are quite clearly headed towards Elriel? Absolutely. But I think even if they weren't, I'd be crack shipping them anyways because I absolutely love what they have to offer plot, story, tone, aesthetic, style, and romance wise. They are the full package for me. Feysand was a full package for me. Nessian isn't my usual style or favorite trope or vibe, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

I think Sarah has given the sisters really distinct personalities and completely individual storylines. I personally still love every book. I adored ACOSF. Buuuuut I don't really need it rewritten a second time in a different font, which is what I think G*wynriel would be. Minus all of the "it's been you since the moment I laid eyes on you" swoon worthiness that I loved for Nesta and Cassian and introducing the "I can't believe I didn't notice my own mate standing right next to me and being harmed and put in mortal danger repeatedly for three years because I was in love with other women" element.

But ACOSF is polarizing. I've seen people say it is either objectively the best book Sarah has ever written, or objectively the worst.

Elain is a unique sister, with a personality and powers that could not be more different from Feyre and Nesta. Everything about her book is not going to match what we have seen in the series so far. And I think that's a GOOD thing. ACOSF was a tone shift, and I think Elain's book will be a tone shift. But I think her book is probably going to be polarizing as well. And it will likely be my favorite.

Although the fandom has gotten a bit aggressive, I think it's really cool that people found their favorite in Nesta and ACOSF in a way that is really kind of deep and specific. I think Elain and Elriel will be that for me. That's what books are supposed to do. Humanity is not one size fits all. It makes perfect sense that people locked into Nessian (or just Nesta) in a way they didn't with Feyre/Feysand. And although there's a crop of anti ic people out there now, Feysand will always be a crowd pleaser. So I'm just hoping the girlies who get it will have their chance to connect that deeply with Elriel too!

I love each Archeron sister, and I for one love how different they are. I appreciate their stories for different reasons. But I am ACHING for Elain and Azriel to lean into their vibes and continue on their journey of questioning the system and deconstructing religion and battling the obstacles in their way. That will always be more interesting and way sexier and peak romance to me and will undoubtedly take spot number 1 in my heart.

[danikamariewrites]

Okay but being mated to Az, Cass, and Nesta but you don’t know and a foreign dignitary comes to stay at the House of Wind with the four of you and Rhys asks you to seduce/be flirty with them and the three of them are absolutely feral trying to keep their jealousy down

Just One Night

Nessian x Azriel x reader

A/n: I’ve been dying to write another fic with these four! They would absolutely want to kill Rhys for this especially Nesta.

Warnings: possessive Nessian & Azriel

Today is the day. Nesta had decided for the group that today they would tell you about the bond. She was just waiting for you all to get out of a meeting with Rhys and her sister. The last thing Nesta wanted was to confess the bond - and her love for you - in front of Rhys.

Nesta heard the angry footsteps echoing off the marble floor of her mates before she saw them. Setting her book down she tilted her head curiously at their disgruntled looks. The males dropped into their respective arms chairs letting out dejected sighs. Nesta stood with her arms crossed and a raised brow as she looked between the two.

“Well.” She said sharply. Azriel let out a low growl from the back of his throat. She felt his annoyance down the bond and looked to Cassian for an answer. Sighing through his mouth and rubbing the bridge of his nose Cassian bites out, “Rhys is having her seduce the emissary from Montesere. Cyrus Yarrow.”

When they looked up at Nesta those silver flames were dancing with anger in her eyes. Her left one practically twitching. “He’s having her do what?” She growled. Nesta turned on her heel, black dress flaring dramatically. Cassian grabbed her wrist before she could go give Rhys a piece of her mind.

Her fist balled. The first and only warning Cassian would get to release her. Letting go his open hand hovered cautiously. “Wait. She, just…she took the job. She knows what to get from the guy and we won’t let it get farther than that, yeah?” Nesta cracked her neck, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Fine.”

“You don’t want to be overbearing, Nes.” Azriel said. That deep, even voice relaxing her. “You’re right.” She looked back at her mates as Azriel waved her over. His arms open for her. Without hesitating Nesta sat on Azriel’s thigh, resting her head against his chest. “I know you’re impatient,” he says against her hair, “the Mother knows we are too, but we want to make it special for her.”

———

Pulling out the garment bag from your closet a knock sounded at your bedroom door. “Come in!” You hear whom ever enter, shuffling around the room. Nesta poked her head in your closet. You smile at her, “Hey you.” She gives you an equally dazzling smile. For a moment you swear something like love sparkles in her eyes.

Your heart leaped at the thought then quickly sunk. Remembering how in love she is with Cass. Blinking rapidly you plaster that smile back on your face. “What’s up?” You ask lightly. “I thought we could get ready for the ball together.”

You nod vigorously. “I would love that.” You and Mor used to get ready together - Feyre too - until she found Emerie. Usually when Rhys gave you a job for the evening you liked to get ready alone. Being alone lets you think through your plan for the night. Being with Nesta will be a nice change though. She was able to distract you from the awaiting nightmare of Cyrus.

Cyrus Yarrow was renowned for the females he chose to surround himself with. Always beautiful and charming. He was also quite demanding and handsy when he found something he liked. A shiver runs down your spine causing you to shake, your chin dropping to your chest.

Looking back up you saw Nesta had moved closer to your face. Her hand poised to draw with the kohl on your lid. “Are you ok?” You give her a small nod. “Stay still,” she giggled. A warmth bloomed in your chest at the sound.

———

The ball was in full swing. Nesta had stolen you for the first dance before you were swept away by Cyrus. Azriel had grabbed her waist before she could kill the male, dragging her into a waltz she could do in her sleep. Cassian was sending waves of calm to her down the bond. He stepped in for Az once the song was over. Also so Azriel could keep an eye on you for the night.

“Remember what Azriel said, Nes.” She gave him a curt nod, looking over her shoulder for you as they spin around the floor. “Hey,” Cass demanded, taking his hand from her waist to grip her chin. “She is fine. She is capable. I know the instinct to protect her and be by her is intense, we’re feeling it too. But tomorrow, he will be gone.” “Yeah.” She mumbled. Cassian pressed a quick kiss to Nesta’s lips before dipping her dramatically.

Azriel watched from the shadows as you entertained Cyrus. His party from Montesere was nothing like him. Kind and proper as they chatted with Mor and Feyre. His eyes bounced between the groups wanting to make sure that his court was safe. Feyre stood up straighter. A shocked and confused look pulling at her features.

He met his High Lady’s gaze and she tapped on his mental shield wasting no time in updating her spymaster. Cyrus no longer held the power they were told about. His Lord had stripped his title a week ago. This relieved Azriel. It meant he wouldn’t feel guilty about pulling you away from work and that Rhys wouldn’t give him a tongue lashing.

The Shadowsinger was about to step in and save you from Cyrus’s awfulness when a panicked feeling froze him in place. His shadows had reported Nesta and Cassian were safe. He even spotted them smiling and laughing as they danced.

When the realization hit Azriel that it was you projecting your feelings down the bond ran to you, sending his shadows ahead to pull Cyrus off of you. The look of disgust on your face had his instincts to protect you screaming at him to go.

Azriel drew Truth Teller, holding it to Cyrus’s neck. “Back away from my mate.” Azriel said practically roared. The fae around them stopped, gasps sounded through the crowd as they stared. You clung to Azriel’s arm through the whole ordeal. As the word mate left his mouth you stared up at Az, your eyes twinkling with love.

You had always had a crush on Azriel. But Nesta, you thought to yourself. No, you’d let her go. You have Az now. “Mate,” you repeat. Azriel stilled as the realization of the word he just spoke dawned on him. He slowly turned to look at you. The corners of your lip turning up at the his shock.

“Yeah, umm…” His gaze drifted behind you. You followed his gaze to find a stunned Cassian and a fuming Nesta. “Az?” You ask softly. The party had resumed around you as the couple stepped closer. Cassian placed his hands on Nesta’s shoulders in a calming manner. “Why don’t we all go talk somewhere else.” Cass suggested. “Why do we all,” you trail off as Nesta grabs your hand to drag you out of the ball room.

You kept looking between Nesta, Azriel, and Cassian as she leads you to the living quarters of the House of Wind. Her iron grip never leaving you. Entering the main living room Nesta drops your hand making a beeline for the bar cart housing one of Rhys’s expensive bottles of whiskey. Pouring herself a finger she downs the amber liquid in one go.

“I thought,” she started, her tone dangerously calm, “we wanted to make it special. To do something sweet for our mate.” Nesta flashed her perfect canines in a saccharine smile at the males. Azriel’s jaw tightened. His head dropped, clearly frustrated with himself.

You hold his hand with both of yours. Running your thumb across the back of his hand in calming circles. Nesta’s words caught up with your brain. Our, she had said.

You looked at her with wide eyes. “Our? As in all three of you are my mates.” Cassian couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah sweetheart. You have all three of us. We’ve been waiting to tell you and we wanted to make it special. Cyrus just got in the way.” You covered your mouth as happy tears lined your eyes. That warm feeling in your chest that appeared with Nesta earlier returning. The bond glowing fiercely as it branched out to all three of them.

You sink on to the plush couch taking in the information. You have been blessed with three mates. Each one you were madly in love with. And you get to love them all for the rest of your life!

Cassian came to sit beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side. You could sense the apology on his lips before he could even say it. Cassian has always been too apologetic for his own good. You grabbed his hand resting on his thigh. “I’m not mad. I am incredibly happy to hear this.” Cassian’s head dropped to rest on yours. Azriel takes the spot next to you wrapping his arms around your waist pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You stare at Nesta who hadn’t moved an inch since you entered the room. You wave her over to join couch snuggles, tugging on the bond to entice her. Nesta ran at you. Jumping to straddle your lap and pushing Cass and Az off you. You hugged her tightly inhaling her scent of fire and steel masked by the vanilla and almond perfume she wears.

“I love you so much, y/n.” She whispered just for you to hear. “I love you, Nes. With all my heart.” You whispered back, just for her to hear.

[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. 

[wishcamper]

Nessian Week Day 1 - Banter

For our first day of @nessianweek here's a little drabble of our favorite couple doing what they do best.

They flirt. They fight. They fuck. You know the drill.

You can read it here or on ao3!

Win Lose or Draw

Cassian and Nesta take a vacation to Day, where a lot more ends up in their mouths than they bargained for.

CW: consensual sexual content

“I fucking dare you.”

“You think I won’t?”

The scorpion dangled from Nesta’s fingers by a claw, its gleaming body dusted with spices so potent they made Cassian’s eyes water from across the picnic table.

“I think you’re stalling. Take a bite, Lady Death.”

“You go first, Lord of Bloodshed, if you’re so eager,” she snapped, stabbing a finger at the jar of strange, grayish clumps suspended in brine in front of him. Knowing Nesta, they were probably some poor creature’s testicles. 

“I would, but it’s the courteous thing to let the lady go first, sweetheart.”

The bazaar in Day was bustling with activity around them, having found a corner amongst the brightly-colored tents to tuck into with their haul, escaping the burning eye of the sun. They’d each chosen a few things for the other to try, and the deep-fried scorpion was Cassian’s final challenge to Nesta. She’d already housed an inky-veined sheep's milk cheese and a fruit that smelled of rotting meat with nothing but a brief shudder and a prim smack of her lips.

“Suddenly he cares about courtesy. Do I eat the stinger too?”

“If you want to do it right.”

Not long after they’d officially gotten together, Cassian found out that he could get his mate to eat almost anything with a little goading. It all started with a mountain fig soaked in Illyrian moonshine he’d tried to warn her off of at the equinox festival. He’d been captivated by the way she popped it in her mouth in one go, face screwing up against the burn that felled even the fiercest warriors, fighting with every grind of her teeth against the urge to spit it out. 

When she finally swallowed, she looked just as triumphant as she did when she swallowed something else, and Cassian had been unable to help himself ever since.

 It was simple, really, when he thought about it. Nesta liked to win. He liked to watch her win. And so it became a little game between them.

He heard her noise of displeasure over the chatter of other shoppers and Nesta scrunched her nose, surveying the scorpion from all angles. “And what would you know about doing it right?”

“Seemed pretty clear to you last night when you were begging me to -”

“Cassian Archeron, I swear -”

He winked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way he knew emphasized the muscles in his shoulders, the same ones she’d clung to the night before when she’d most definitely been begging.

“I’m just trying to jog your memory, Nes, don’t get defensive.” He patted her hand in as dickish a way as he could, knowing it would make her see red. “It’s okay if you’re worried about gagging and making a fool of yourself.”

They’d come to Day on vacation a dozen times, and he never got tired of the way she lit up when they traveled, how she loved the newness, the adventure. It made him want to relinquish all his duties and spend forever taking her to every far-flung corner of the world, his beautiful wife, who might be currently plotting his murder.

Nesta smiled at him now, the garnets he’d bought her years ago in Rask glinting at her ears. But instead of the rush of victory Cassian felt panic slide down his spine. He’d seen that smile countless times across the training ring, her deadly calm before the strike.

“You know I don’t gag,” she purred, and his brain went fuzzy, thoughts fizzling out. Which she probably knew would happen, just like she knew how it loosened his tongue when she talked like this. He leaned in close so the snake-eyed fae at the table beside them couldn’t overhear.

“You do if I want you to.”

“Is that an order, General?” Silver rolled across her eyes, that deadly fire. “I don’t take kindly to those.”

“Liar.”

He was digging his own grave but he didn’t care, the zing of chemistry bouncing between them. Nesta’s foot slid up his leg beneath the table, hooking around the back of his calf.

“Careful, my love,” she said. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

On the bench opposite him, she was the portrait of a lady, perfectly composed in her pale yellow gown that flowed over her freckled shoulders like liquid sunlight. But when he felt the toe of her shoe dig into his leg, he knew she was positioning herself to dislocate his knee. 

Mother, he loved her. And he’d never been good at following directions, anyway.

“Take a bite.”

“No.”

“Take a bite, Nesta.”

Her smoky eyes flashed as she surveyed the scorpion once more, the wraith-pepper flakes and batter encrusting its sharp pincers. “You’re sure this won’t poison me.”

“I’m hurt, sweetheart. You really think I’d endanger you?”

“Depends how far up Rhysand’s ass you are.”

“Okay, I earned that one,” he conceded, grinning. The shame of his early failures still lingered, but they’d come so far. Enough that she felt comfortable joking about it now, that Rhys would’ve tumbled into profuse apologies had he overheard. “You survived the Blood Rite, I think you can handle a little venom.”

“Fine.”

Defiant, Nesta lowered it into her mouth in one go and crunched down, eyes watering at the potency. Her cheeks turned red at once, sweat beading at her brow, and she braced her hands on the edge of the table to suppress the cough he knew wanted to burst forth. Cassian watched her fight through the heat, her steel composure cracking when she gave in and fanned at her face, her open mouth, reaching to grip his hand for support when she swallowed at last. 

It was his favorite part, he supposed, when she clung to him to make it through. The same way her eyes searched for him habitually when she won a spar during training, when she flung her arm across their bed in the night to feel his form in the darkness. That despite being able to handle all of it on her own, Nesta wanted him along with her.

“Goodness,” she panted once she’d released his hand, brushing stray spice from her fingers. He watched the flush creep across her chest, entranced. “That wasn’t so bad, actually. I may go back for another. Though I doubt you’ll be saying the same.”

Her smile was wicked then, and Cassian couldn’t help but laugh when she looked pointedly at the jar still in front of him, at his fate in her hands. 

“So whose balls am I about to gag on?”

“The giant Sarnesian bat.” She smirked, silver rolling across her eyes once more. “And after that, mine.”

—-

They shared a sumptuous dinner under the fading sun, having somehow not lost their appetites after the horrors they’d inflicted upon each other, though the thick afternoon nap had likely helped. Nesta’s gaze grew heavier the longer it was locked on him across the table, her wintery eyes guarded, mouth drawn in the phantom of a smile.

“You’re quiet this evening, sweetheart,” he observed as he polished off a staggeringly good saffron-infused cake. The same yellow stained his wife’s tongue where it darted out to wet her lips.

“Just enjoying the view.”

“Is that so?”

Nesta hummed in answer, and Cassian felt his blood heat, rushing south as she looked back out at the vista. The room Helion always insisted they take had a wide open-air balcony with a view of Zlora’s rolling dunes, the horizon dotted with bonfires for the upcoming summer solstice. Pink-tipped roses climbed the balustrade, their scent rich in the night air, and music drifted on the breeze full of swirling flutes and deep drums. The High Lord of Day seemed to understand that ‘vacation’ for them meant ‘fucking where our family can’t interrupt us’, and always took their needs to heart.

A smile bloomed on his mate’s beautiful face, and Cassian couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she breathed in deeply, limbs relaxed where she lounged in her chair. Nesta liked when he watched her, when she knew he was watching. A vision of their last trip to the capitol city rose in his mind, when she’d left their table to dance with another male, how she’d kept her eyes on him the whole time. How fucking crazy it drove him, how he’d worshiped her for hours after.

Nesta in the present stood slowly and moved to loom over him, caging him in with her arms. Cassian leaned back and smirked, dragging his gaze up and down her body appreciatively, possessively. She preened under his attention despite trying not to, her shoulders rolling back and down, and the spark set the game in motion again.

His voice was rough to his own ears when he spoke, low and arrogant. “Take off your clothes.”

Anger sparked across Nesta’s expression at the same time the scent of her arousal drifted over him. She looked defiant as one hand raised to the pin holding her gown at her shoulder, fingers toying with the clasp.

“That sounded an awful lot like an order again, General. You forget death answers to no one.”

“No one but you. Off.”

A shiver of pleasure ran through her and she obeyed, blue gossamer cascading to the floor. When he saw there was nothing underneath, Cassian was tempted to tug her to her knees by the long braid dangling down her back, to make her prove she never gagged. But he knew her well enough to see the ploy for what it was, how she hoped to compromise his self-control with her devastating beauty on full display.

It worked. Cassian ran reverent hands up her bare thighs, tracing the faint lines where she’d filled out over the years, struck dumb from wanting to taste them.

Mother save him.

“What’s the matter? Lost all your courage, sweetheart?” Nesta goaded. She ran her long, tantalizing fingers over the exposed lines of his chest, nails scratching in the hair at the center. Then her touch rounded the top of his shoulder, stretching toward where his wings met his back. 

“What do you think you’re doing, witch?”

Not wanting to be bested yet, Cassian snatched her arm and pulled her down onto him, intent on showing her just how brave he could be.

He couldn’t fucking get enough of her, wanted to drown in her as they tangled with her in his lap, spread out on the table, bent over the balcony railing. She fought his teasing the whole way, trying to stave off her orgasm, as if she knew he wanted to send her tumbling before him and refused to lose.

What she didn’t know was that was exactly his aim. For she was his favorite version when riled up, when I Will Slay My Enemies blended with I’m About To Rearrange Your World, Cassian and he was totally at her mercy no matter who was on top.

She was on her back in the pile of plush cushions now, muscles strained from staving off the high her body craved, nails clawing weakly at his arms. Up and down he wound her, watching as the silver misted at her fingertips, her magic unspooling as her sanity did. Nesta filled the room with glimmers of it, wisps of pleasure flung out, ghosting over his skin and she was everything, every thought in his brain, every drop of his blood.

Her eyelids fluttered pitifully when he gave a hard thrust and Cassian smirked down at her, at the deep flush creeping across her chest that told him she was close.

“Not so mouthy now, huh? Such a good girl when you’re getting what you want.”

“You insuf..ferable.. bat..”

“Go on, Nes, give in. You know you want to.”

“N-never,” Nesta stuttered, but she was speechless after that all the same, clinging tight as he moved deep within her. Something in her seemed to turn then, and he felt the hard squeeze of her thighs around him, eyes pleading when he pulled back. He slowed his pace and rubbed gentle circles into her hips, a question.

“Cassian,” she pleaded in answer, and he heard the edge in her voice, that long-lived wound, the fear of losing control. He leaned forward until their noses bumped, hair spilling over his shoulders to form a protective curtain around her face.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She relaxed beneath him at the same time her finger grazed his wing that was finally within her reach, rearranging his world.

He tipped over just a breath before her, and it felt like the exact moment his wings first caught the wind - suspension, a delicious weightlessness in the gap between flight and freefall. The sound of her moans washed over him a second later, her grip on his hair tight when he buried his face in her neck, tethering her to the earth.

And Cassian knew then, as he knew every time, that all wanted in this life was to take her here. To lift her up and up and up as many times as he could, to help her float, unburdened, even if it meant he was doomed to place second for the rest of his life.

“I won,” she panted once they floated down, and he laughed into the damp skin of her throat, felt her smile against his temple before she placed a kiss there. “Again.”

Nesta fell asleep almost immediately, as was her way, and Cassian watched how the moonlight spilled over her body until drowsiness dragged him under, too, thinking he’d never been happier to lose.

[jasmineandcedar]

Wingspan

An Elriel one shot (Azriel's POV).

A reimagination of the scene where Feyre asks Rhys about wingspans - Elriel style (with a little bit of Nessian involved). I wanted to capture Elriel's subtle playfulness. And I wanted to combine the playfulness of that scene with the impact of sharing a gaze with the one you're not supposed to want.

Warning: sexual undertones

-------

“I’ve heard that the size of an Illyrian male’s wingspan says something about the size of another... body part”, Nesta said, leaning back in her chair and scanning Cassian sitting across from her. Wicked delight coated her every word.  

Azriel paused mid-chew, his fork hovering in the air. He glanced across the table at Elain, who was clutching her fork as if her life depended on it, her unblinking eyes fixed on the plate in front of her. Azriel swallowed. The faintest blush was spreading across her cheeks. Were he not entirely in control of his faculties, a smile would have bloomed across his own face at the sight of it.

“And…” Nesta continued, twirling her fork tauntingly between her fingers, her eyes never leaving Cassian's. “I heard Azriel has the biggest wingspan”.

She nodded towards Azriel, gaze still on Cassian, the smirk on her face a willful provocation.

A brief silence followed, broken only by the clatter of Cassian’s fork hitting the table.

“That’s it! Bring out the measuring stick,” Cassian boomed, leaping out of his chair. The daring gleam in his eyes was a match to Nesta’s. “We’re settling this once and for all!”

Azriel’s gaze remained fixed on Elain, who looked like she wanted nothing more than to know how to winnow with how her body stiffened, her eyes glued to her plate. Still, he swore he caught the faintest trace of a smile fighting to break free—the slight tightening of her jaw, the delicate tensing of her lips. Were he not the Spymaster of the Night Court, and more importantly, irrevocably wrapped around the finger of the middle Archeron sister, he probably wouldn’t have noticed her quiet amusement.

“Az?” Cassian pressed.

Azriel finally shifted his gaze away from Elain and turned to his brother, biting down the smirk threatening to spread across his face.

“What?” he replied calmly, not betraying his thoughts of the enthralling female sitting in front of him.

“Wingspans”, Cassian insisted, folding his arms over his chest. “We’re settling this”.

Azriel rose smoothly from his seat.

“I don’t need to resort to it”, he said coolly.

“Come on, Az!” Cassian argued, amusement lacing his voice.

“You should thank me, Cass”, Azriel said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he patted Cassian on the shoulder. “At least now it’s not confirmed you don’t have the biggest wingspan”.

With that, he left the room.

-------

“Is it true?”

Elain’s soft voice blended with the gentle crackling of what was left of the dying fire. It was late. The others had already gone to bed, but Azriel had lingered in the sitting room as Elain finished her preparations for the morning.

And there she was. Emerging from the kitchen, delicate fingers twirling the strings of her apron. Azriel couldn’t fathom how such a simple act could make his stone-cold heart flutter in his chest. He’d tear apart the fabric of the universe to ensure she had a lifetime’’s supply of aprons to twirl between her fingers, if she wanted it.

Her gaze was fixed on the floor, lit up by the last flickers of the fire that had brazed in the hearth an hour earlier, framing her lovely face in hues of gold. She had let her hair down—loose waves of golden brown spilling over her shoulders.

The sight of her stole his very breath.

Lounging on the sofa, one arm drapepd over the armrest, Azriel angled his head, his eyes fixed on the female he could never resist. The one who had offered him kindness when he believed he deserved none of it.

Elain.

“Is what true?” he replied, his voice a low murmur. He leaned back, resting his jaw on his fist, openly observing her in a way he could never allow himself when they weren’t alone. He watched her twist a little at the spot, to his delight.

A few seconds passed before her tender voice broke the silence to once again bless his ears.

“What they say about wingspans?”

Something glinted in her eyes, even as they stayed fixed on the floor. Azriel bit back a chuckle at her boldness—so at odds with her sweet demeanor. The paradox of it all made him burn in all the right places.

Wrong places, he corrected himself.

Still, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. A pity. He might drown in those chestnut eyes of hers if she’d let him. Granted, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. Perhaps this was for the better.

Against his better judgement, he rose to his feet and approached her slowly, unable to stay away. After all, they didn’t call him dark without reason. Though he doubted drowning in Elain Archeron’s chestnut eyes was the kind of danger they envisioned when they whispered about his proclivities. But he wasn’t one to argue. He had hidden behind a protective layer of preconceived notions for centuries. Until her. She saw right through him, and he let her.

And yet, she stayed. Twirling the strings of her apron between her fingers.

“What do you think?” he whispered into the quiet of the night.

He was right in front of her where she lingered in the doorframe separating the kitchen from the sitting room. She had gone motionless as he approached, but she didn’t shy away when he stopped—close enough for their breaths to mingle.

Which they did, as a few exhilarating moments passed.

Her gaze flickered to his before dropping to his chest. It was electric, that moment their gazes met. As it had been for a while now. He wasn’t sure when it had started. Wasn’t sure what had shifted between them—or if it had always been there. But that charge between them had become like a tether to him. Something pulling him towards her.

He was desperate for it.

That familiar blush crept up her neck again, and he wanted nothing more than to press his lips to it. To taste that immaculate skin. To savour her scent of jasmine and honey on his tongue.

She tilted her head up, still not quite meeting his gaze. It drove him mad, and she knew it. Her breath fluttered over the sensitive skin of his neck like a featherlight caress. He felt a tremor pass through his body. It settled somewhere low and entirely indecent. Should she come any closer, she would learn all about that wingspan of his. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the shudder that ran through him at the thought of her pressed against him—starved for her as he was.

The shift in her scent mirrored the shift in his. Equally improper. Forbidden, as it were.

And yet, it was holy to him.

“I don’t know”, she breathed.

A pretty lie. And he knew that she knew he was aware of it. He also knew that he was the only one to whom she would show this side of her. Daring. A sweet, quiet, intoxicating boldness that would have him on his knees at her invitation. For the second time that day, he resisted the urge to smirk at that quiet boldness. Resisted the urge to tip her flawless chin up with his fingers and make those beautiful eyes meet his.

It did not escape him that she did not resist the same urge. An irresistible smirk spread across her beautiful face. Feathery lashes rose to reveal her large brown eyes. Azriel felt his breath tighten in his chest when she finally met his gaze and didn’t drop it.

Mother above.

He was drowning.

Unable to resist, he let his fingers brush the string of her apron, where hers had been just moments before.

She let her fingers brush his.

Between the two of them, she was the fearless one. He saw it in every quiet moment they collided. Half a millennium of buried emotion, and yet she could unravel him with a single brush of her fingers.

He must have forgotten how to breathe, but he didn’t seem to need it.

He stretched out his wings, to the extent the cramped space would allow it. It hid the two of them from the fading embers of the fire that had painted the room golden. In the darkened silence, he lowered his face closer to hers, his gaze flashing to that irresistible flush traveling up her neck, reaching the delicate curve of her jaw.

“I’m sure you can imagine,” he murmured, voice sensual as sin as he shifted his gaze to pierce hers again.

She gasped softly, eyes darting between his wings. Perhaps she hadn’t imagined this.

She would now.

He leaned in even closer, his mouth brushing her ear as he let a single word slip past his lips in answer to her question, no more than the shadow of a whisper.

“True”.

She let out an involuntary sound, something between a moan and a whimper. It rippled over his skin, and he didn’t care to hide his shiver at the sensation. It was barely a breath, but Azriel would remember it—would replay it in his mind as he touched himself to the memory of her tonight, secretly shameless as he was where she was concerned.

He liked to think she’d be equally shameless.

The look in her eyes told him she would be. In the dead of night, with no one to witness and only her fantasies for company. What he would give to be shameless with her—not just in thought, but in flesh and bone. To show her pleasure beyond imagination.

If only he were deserving of it.

And yet, the way she seemed to see right through him and still chose to stay in his presence had a small but desperate part of him believing that he could be. That tiny spark of hope had become his lifeline.

Without breaking her gaze, he tucked in his wings, finally letting that smirk spread across his face to mirror hers.

“Sleep well, Elain”.

He felt his chest tighten at his own words, wiping away that playful smirk on his face. He saw his reaction reflected in the way her body stiffened—the implication that he always had to leave before they’d even truly begun dawning on her once more.

What he desired more than anything was to fall asleep next to her. To wrap himself around her and stay. To shower her with praise as gentle as her body and spirit until she fell asleep in his arms. His heart was bursting with words meant for her ears only. Words he repeated in his mind over and over but could never release.

It was suffocating him.

He wanted to bury himself in her warmth until it thawed even the darkest parts of him. And he wanted to love her—in every garden, under the night sky, in her bed.

But fate had been cruel to them, and it was too much to ask.

The last embers of the fire flickered and stilled, leaving the room lit only by the cool glow of moonlight.

“Sleep well, Azriel”.

His name on her tongue was his salvation, but the sadness consuming her was his damnation—a mirror to his wounded soul.

Fate was a cruel and wicked thing. He wanted to crush it with his bare hands for what it had done to the female he loved.

He took a step back and felt the loss of her warmth like the loss of a limb as he did.

“Elain, I…“ he began, his voice faltering.

“I know,” she whispered, the touch of her hand featherlight on his as she met his gaze again. Chestnut to hazel. He saw pure understanding in those eyes of soft, warm brown that felt like the only home he had ever known. That sense of connection he felt with her had once shocked him to his very bones—that time he had vowed to get her back when she had been taken. He had cradled her to his chest, terrified to lose her again. Of course, she knew. She knew all of it.

They had never felt the need to clutter their solitude with words.

They didn’t need words; they just needed time.

And he was patient.

He took the hand she had placed on his and laced his fingers with hers, just like she had twirled that string of her apron. His stomach clenched at the sweet thought of it. A sacrilege it might be, to taint her with him, but he had sworn to never be the one to stifle her.

He slid his free hand into the soft golden-brown waves framing her face, then leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering a little longer than he should have.

“One day”, he whispered against her skin. Or perhaps he thought it.

One day he would stay.

“One day,” she echoed, so quietly it could well have been a thought. She leaned into his touch, like she always did, sacrilege be damned.

Then, shadows swirling, he was gone—leaving her breathless.

As was he, whenever she was near.

(Click here to read part 2)

[shadowdaddies]

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

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

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

Everything to Me

Nessian x m!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

[gwandas]

Sorry I have another petty thing to say about Nessian. This quote:

Cassian had heard enough. He wanted to return home—to the House, to Nesta. His fierce, beautiful mate, who had saved his High Lord and Lady and their son. He’d never stop being in awe of her, and all she had done. How far she’d come.

The way he chooses to praise her in his FINAL pov chapter in the whole book, not by highlighting anything about Nesta herself and what makes her special, but instead how she was useful to Feysand… I’m sorry your honor this “love story” sucks

[elainsgirl]

“For it was music between their souls, always had been.” - Nessian

“And she couldn’t take it, the music between their souls” - Nessian

“Her voice was beautiful. Like a golden song, it stirred his fae soul.” - Lidia/Rhun

“He heard a beautiful sort of music between their souls” Bryce/Hunt

“Azriel could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang back in answer.” - Gwyn and Az

. In each instance, between these mates, the music is heard between their souls. Except from the passage taken in Azriel’s bonus. Their is no “soul” imagery. Sjm could have written the line to parallel those above,

“Azriel could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him, the song nestling deep inside his soul”

yet she doesn’t, why? Because this isn’t mate language for gwynriel. However this line does parallel Nesta/Gwyn. When Nesta is around gwyn,

“Her powers grumbled in answer”

“Could have sworn his shadows sang back in answer”

But why does Nesta’s power grumble and Azriels sing? Because that’s how their powers/magic communicate.

We then have this line from rowaelin,

Rowan made her magic sing…her magic wanted to dance with his and from the frost sparkling in his eyes, she knew his demanded the same.”

Notice how it’s mutual? Both Rowan and Aelin are reacting to each other. Their magic are reacting together. With Gwyn and Azriel - Azriel’s shadows are reacting to Gwyn. Gwyn’s magic isn’t reacting to Azriel’s in answer, it’s not mutual.

I’d also like to point - Gwyn is a singer, of course she will be surrounded by singing imagery that however doesn’t parallel the song imagery between souls.

Another interesting thing: The emphasis on Azriel’s shadows. We know from HOFAS the shadows are simply put - condensed magic. ONE shadow dances with Gwyn’s breath. We know Gwyn has some power within her, that is what the shadow was reacting too otherwise why is Sjm emphasising gwyn’s breath specifically? To say the shadows were playful with Gwyn or liked her is canonically false. Nothing within the text suggests either of those things. Sure, Az felt settled (bcs he was distracted) but even Nesta felt calm after meeting with Gwyn.

To sum it up: Gwyn and Az do not parallel other couples with their “song/soul” imagery. This section of the bonus does not confirm or even hint at them being mates.

[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.

[nikethestatue]

Having been in this fandom for a long time, I think what's become apparent--and I think that's where most of our problems stem from--is that PERSONAL INTERPRETATION has become the default thing to fall back onto, and consequently, it's been used over and over again to negate or disregard the author's INTENT, because it doesn't align with personal preference. Consequently, people began being duped into believing that a reader's personal interpretation of text is 'right' and that canon doesn't matter and that SJM's own intention don't matter as well.

Here are some examples:

Did SJM INTENDED for Cassian to be a terrible mate who will sell Nesta for a chicken nugget if Rhys tells him to? Was the intent to show how poor Nessian pairing is?

OR

Is it just that Cassian did not live up to the readers' own expectations of what they wanted for Nesta? And is their interpretation of Cassian as an awful match for Nesta, who doesn't care about her, only cares about sex, and would never stand up for her or support her, actually correct?

Did SJM INTENDED for Gwyn's scenes in ACOSF to be romantic towards Azriel? Was her cutting the ribbon or climbing or running a prelude to the great Gwynriel romance novel?

OR

Is it that Gwyn was created to be a springboard for Nesta's self-discovery and healing? Someone who accepted, supported and encouraged Nesta when Nesta was at her lowest? And did many readers' animosity towards Elain's characters drove them to willfully interpret absolutely non-romantic scenes as romantic in a futile hope that somehow, their personal wants would translate to page?

Did SJM intended for Rhys and Feyre to be viewed as ignorant despots who hate their own people, only care about wealth and power, and don't give a damn about anyone but themselves and their five houses?

OR

Is Rhys's love for Feyre the driving force behind many of his decisions? for example giving her an extravagant house? Does Rhys really want to trample on everyone's rights, or is he allowing some of his subjects the freedom of autonomy and self-actualization? Is the intent to show that he is a thoughtful and imperfect leader, who cares about the welfare of his people, or is that he is a dictator who gave his lover an empty title?

While SJM's execution of certain topics isn't perfect, I think that wilful ignorance and the desire to see something that isn't there, and something that SJM didn't intended at all, is really the cause of all the shipwars and the IC hate.

Is SJM REALLY in love with Lucien and is excited to write his book, or is that the fantasy of his stans? Whereas SJM's never been particularly complimentary towards Lucien and his character in interviews or in canon?

Will Tamlin's elusive 'redemption arc' REALLY be something that SJM is interested in writing? Or her calling him a 'douchebag' is kind of indicative of her feelings towards him?

"Elriels are obsessed with canon'. We heard this again and again and again. Being obsessed with canon' simply means that we are paying attention to what SJM's intentions are and what she wants to convey through her words. Elriels, just like everyone else have headcanons about Elain, and Az, and Elriel. But we don't discard the actual books and writing in favour of our headcanons.

I feel that lack of consideration towards 'intent' is really leading some people down a very slippery road, where at the end of it, they'll find a lot of crushed dreams. Because most of the time, 'black' is just....black. It's not white. It's not even opaque. It's just, black. I think people should remember that when they do their 'analysis'.

[throneofsapphics]

a present 

Nessian x f!Reader 

Summary: “Take if off” with Nessian 

Warnings: smut, oral (f!receiving), minors dni please!

A/N: for this!

“You’ll watch us tonight,” Nesta told Cassian, the door opening and shutting as the two entered. 

The words caught your attention, and you quickly finished the paragraph of the book you were reading - it wasn’t that interesting in comparison, closing it to see her cover your line of sight, the arches of Cassian’s wings visible beyond her. Winking at you, before sliding between you and the headboard, shifting you between your legs, you noticed hair was already loose from its usual crown.  

“If that’s alright with you, love,” she murmured in your ear. 

You twisted to meet her eyes, noting the mischievous glint, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Of course.” 

Generally, Nesta’s schemes against Cassian, especially to tease him, ended rather well for you. 

Her fingers gathered the edges of your nightgown. She slowly slid the fabric up, unveiling you like a present for him. She’d stop every few inches, run her fingers back and forth over her skin, use her thumbs to rub circles into zones you didn’t know could be erogenous. 

Cassian broke his silent observing just as her hands reached your stomach. “Take it off,” he growled from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and visibly struggling with restraint. “Please, Nes,” he added when her hands stopped. 

“I thought I said you’d be watching,” she teased, and he threw his head back in a groan. 

“Don’t make him suffer too long, love,” you cut in. And make you suffer, you left unsaid. 

Nesta hummed, but quickly slid the rest of the fabric up and over your shoulders, tossing it to the side. One hand slid under your thigh, pulling your leg up over hers, leaving you very exposed, and you heard Cassian’s breathing pick up. 

A cool breeze brushed right against your core, dragging a whimper from you. Nesta let out a low laugh, and you yelped as she dragged your other leg over hers, spreading her knees as far as you could handle. 

“You want a taste?” She asked Cassian, her voice a low purr. 

He didn’t bother answering her, instead crossed the room in a few strides, before kneeling between your legs. 

Hazel eyes found yours, searching for permission, all you could manage - with Nesta’s fingers now twisting and pinching your nipples - was a nod and a breathy “yes,” it was enough for Cassian. 

One hand parting your folds, he dragged his tongue up your center, pausing at the apex of your thighs, “fuck you taste incredible,” he moaned. 

You wiggled your hips as much as you could, trying to push yourself against his mouth. He laughed, one hand coming up to pin your hips back against Nesta. One finger teased against your entrance in painfully slow circles, and you couldn’t have pressed forward if you wanted to, now that Nesta had one arm across your lower stomach in an iron grip. 

What started as something fun to tease Cassian was quickly turning back on you. In reality, the teasing probably lasted less than five minutes but with the pressure slowly building in your stomach it felt like years. 

“Am I going to have to do it for you?” Nesta taunted him. 

He snarled, at the idea of you being taken away from him, but finally started pushing you towards relief. Your attempted thanks to Nesta was drowned out by the moans falling from your lips. 

You didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed with how quickly you finished, his fingers curving to hit the perfect spot, teeth nipping at your clit. Cassian slowed his movements as you rode out your orgasm, Nesta whispering praises in your ear. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Nesta murmured after you managed to regain some control of your breathing, your legs still shaking. 

Cassian’s arms slid between the two of you, snatching you from her - he was already halfway to the bath, one you heard the house start to run, before Nesta’s indignant yelp could be heard. 

“She’ll get back at you for this,” you mumbled, head against his chest. For some reason, one of Nesta’s favorite little things was to carry you off towards a bath after. The two of you would joke it’s because she ‘couldn’t do it to that big oaf,’ but you both knew she liked to take care of you. 

“And you’ll keep benefiting from it,” he pressed a kiss against your forehead.

The House was undeniably on Nesta’s side, considering the water was ice cold when Cassian dipped his fingers in to test it. 

“That’s what you get,” Nesta said from the doorway. 

[separatist-apologist]

The Thing About Mor

I'm gonna say this and then I'm gonna shut up about it.

I don't think it's necessarily the fandom's fault for the way they read Mor, just as a disclaimer. Nor am I saying you are required to like her. Please reread those sentences before we continue.

The thing about Mor is that she's originally set up to be both a foil to the traditionalism of the Spring Court and a counterpart to Feyre's friendship with Lucien. Feyre is immediately struck by Rhys naming not Cassian or Azriel- who seem terrifying to her- as his second in command, but Mor.

Mor is also placed directly between Cassian and Azriel in what I think was originally supposed to be some kind of love triangle for the three, with the ultimate pairing as Mor and Azriel. I think the narrative of ACOMAF sets Mor and Azriel up as potential mates just waiting on a snapping bond, with Cassian as maybe her first choice given how she slept with him as a teenager.

Throughout ACOMAF, we see Mor as someone who can hold her own against the men in her lives. When they go to Hybern, Mor is the only warrior left standing and is the one who ultimately rescues them. She's also the person Rhys trusts to get Feyre in the Spring Court (ignoring the strange "politics" of why Rhys' second-in-command can break into Tamlins manor but the High Lord can't).

She is ALSO the person who goes to Feyre once Feyre realizes Rhys wasn't honest about the bond, and she's the one who asks "would it really be so bad to join our family?"

I don't know what changed for SJM. I think the nessian of it all ended whatever potential love triangle might have happened with Cassian-Mor-Azriel, and I've heard rumors she was getting a lot of pressure to make her stories more diverse (who was asking SJM, of all people, to tell a compelling queer story?). Regardless, somewhere between ACOMAF and ACOWAR, Mor's trajectory changes.

This is seen so clearly with the rise of Eris who, up until ACOWAR, is an undisputed villain in the story. Not just Lucien's story, but the story as a whole. We're told he holds Jesminda down while Beron beheads her, and he participates in tracking Lucien down with the intent to kill him. He gleefully watched Lucien tortured in the second trial UTM, and is willing to give up Feyre's name to Amarantha IF he knew it.

And in the beginning of ACOWAR, Eris is still the villain. He chases Lucien and Feyre across multiple courts at the behest of his father, presumably to hold Feyre ransom back to Tamlin in exchange for who knows what, and see Lucien executed. Eris's cruelty on the ice sets up a truly cinematic moment for Cassian and Azriel to come swooping in and save the day, and once again highlights our good guys (Lucien especially) and our bad guys.

And I do feel like somewhere in this passage, SJM falls in love with Eris and begins to give him the Rhys treatment at the EXPENSE of Mor. Rhys, who we're told, respects Mor over nearly everyone, unilaterally decides that they're going to trust Eris. There is no discussion to be had here. I think this creates a specific moment for readers to be like, okay well if Rhys did this without talking to Mor, then maybe he doesn't trust her. I don't even think its an explicit thought- but implicitly, whatever Eris shared with Rhys is enough to convince him of Eris's goodness over Mor's hatred. And I think that lends itself to a lot of the "maybe she's lying" theories that come about, ESPECIALLY after ACOSF and Eris telling Cassian that there was more that happened than Mor has shared with them.

Additionally, Mor is supposed to oversee Hewn City which means this deal SHOULD have included her because Kier's Darkbringers are part of her jurisdiction, but unless I misremember, this deal is brokered by Rhys, Eris, and Kier. So Mor's position in Hewn City feels ceremonial-I think this is partly because SJM ascribes to a very narrow definition of masculinity and power, and even though Rhys claims to share it, what she shows us does not match with the telling. Rhys decides what happens in Hewn City and he can make decisions without Mor's input so what's she even doing down there besides acting like decoration?

This is also where, I think, a lot of people get frustrated and confused because the "court of dreamers" are sold to us as a family. And in the confession between Mor and Feyre, we suddenly learn Mor is afraid to come out to the people she claims are her closest family. In our current understanding of the world and what it often means to be queer, your found family are supposed to be your safe people, the people you can be unapologetically yourself with ESPECIALLY when your blood relatives reject you. And here Mor is, telling us she is too afraid to come out to the point she sleeps with men specifically to keep Azriel off her back (unclear how that's helping) AND to not arouse suspicion.

So like- it's not a leap to understand why the fandom writes Mor off as a liar or someone that can't be trusted because SJM has inconsistently applied her personality in order to suit her narrative versus telling a consistent story with consistent characterizations. The fandom is left to string it all together and creative a cohesive story and I do think the problem with that is we don't agree.

Interpretations of the text vary, so on one end you have "I think Mor is lying because the narrative, whether it means to or not, is implying Mor shouldn't be trusted. Rhys no longer trusts her and is keeping secrets for her, and its through Rhys we're told Eris CAN be trusted." and on the other its "Mor isn't responsible for the men around her and is held to a different standard than the other characters who are better fleshed out (in part because they're associated with a man)."

Again, a lot of this is speculation. I don't know what SJM's true original plans were, nor can I speak with 100% authority why she changed them. I can say that SJM is notorious, across all her works, for changing motivations and characterizations to fit her narrative and that ACOTAR feels the most egregious. I don't think she ever had a solid plan for ACOTAR beyond the feysand romance, and everything else has been slapped together based on how she feels in the moment, which leads to a lot of the arguments and frustrations we currently experience around most of the characters, honestly.