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duskandstarlight · 4 years ago

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Masterlist @duskandstarlight

Because people have been requesting it...

NESSIAN (because they are my OTP)

Multi-chapter fics:

Embers & Light (in progress): Slow-burn healing fic for both Cassian and Nesta, starting from Nesta being sent to the Illyrian mountains by Feyre... Prepare yourselves for angst and yearning, bickering and flirting banter...

Summary: Nesta Archeron may be the unsung hero from the war with Hybern, but since then, she has felt nothing but hollow. Suffering from a battle trauma so fierce it knocks the breath out of her, Nesta spends her days drinking, bedding males and spending the Night Court coffers to block out the memories of cracking bones and rolling heads. Until... enough is finally enough and her sister and High Lady, Feyre Archeron, exiles her to the Illyrian mountains to live with Cassian - the one male who has always managed to get under her skin. Thrust into a culture in the midst of dissent, Nesta is made to face the darkest parts of herself, as well as the magic that roars in her veins, to figure out who she is and who she will become on the road to recovery.

One-shots

Of Books & Timber (one-shot from the Embers & Light universe): A one-shot where Cassian builds Nesta some bookshelves in Illyria (or a missing scene from Embers & Light). You don’t need to have read E&L to understand this fic.

Kernels of Truth (one-shot, CANON): A missing scene from ACOFAS, when Mor follows Cassian upstairs after he arrives back at the townhouse after chasing Nesta on Solstice (and when he throws the mystery box in the river!)

Dinner Conversation (one-shot, CANON post-ACOSF) One hundred and fifty years after ACOSF, Nesta and Cassian sit around the dinner table with the Inner Circle. And Cassian has an announcement.

Clouds Are Shrouding Us in Moments Unforgettable (Kinktober) Nesta and Cassian have never been a couple that willingly deny themselves some action between the sheets. But when Cassian has to whip the Illyrian legions into shape for an entire week, as well as smooth out the disputes between unruly clans, Nesta and Cassian make a deal: no orgasms until they are reunited at the Spring Court to celebrate Calanmai.

But when Nesta eats some aphrodisiac-laced cherry pie whilst waiting for Cassian to arrive, the bargain they struck is immediately replaced with a base need for release. Nesta hurries to her room where she can finally be alone, but just as that orgasm begins to crest, Cassian catches her in the act.And they had a deal, did they not?

Warnings: NSFW, Spanktober, Dom!Cassian being sexy AF, orgasm denial, Nesta high on aphrodisiac

Alternative POV’s in Embers & Light

Prologue (Rhysand) Don’t read until after chapter 35 of Embers & Light if you don’t want spoilers :)

Chapter 9 (Cassian) Cassian sees Nesta’s scars for the first time. Protective Cassian™

Chapter 20 (Nesta) Nesta witnesses Cassian in only a towel

Chapter 15 (Nesta) Cassian finds Nesta has started her cycle and runs her a bath

Chapter 25 (Cassian) Cassian tries to soothe Nesta’s nightmares and ends up sleeping beside her

Chapter 44-45 (Cassian) Cassian struggles to cope without Nesta

Chapter 51 (Cassian) Cassian is reeling after something monumental happens at the Lake.

Habits Universe (to be read in order)

1. Habits (NSFW one-shot): ACOSF one-shot of Nessian smut on the premise that Nesta and Cassian sleep with one another in Illyria shortly after Nesta arrives. Angry sex turning into something softer... NSFW.

2. Wings, Flames and Shadows (NSFW)

Nesta/Cassian/Azriel play strip poker in Illyria. This is set in the Habits universe but can be read as a standalone. Seriously smutty.

3. Wings & Flames (NSFW)

Nesta & Cassian come together in the aftermath of his trip to the Winter Court.

Alternative POV’s for the Habits universe

Wings & Shadows (Azriel POV during Wings, Flames & Shadows): During a state visit to Kallias's Winter Court, Azriel and Cassian deal with the consequences of their recent joining with Nesta and the truths Azriel learnt.

Modern AU’s

A Golden Opportunity Blurb: For months Cassian had been waiting for the chance to take Nesta Archeron on a date. No, strike that, Cassian wouldn’t lie to himself. He’d been waiting for years, Mother damn it.

From the moment Cassian had first laid eyes on Nesta he’d known that there would be no-one else. Cassian couldn’t explain it, but he’d just known with a rattling clarity that startled him awake. There would be no more raucous lifestyle where he bedded anything that moved. There would be no half-assed dates that were clearly going nowhere or late-night hook-ups.

There was only one goal: to get Nesta to agree to go on a date with him and pray to the Forces that Be that she’d fall in love with him, too.

The Girl Amongst the writhing bodies, Cassian spots her. Scarlet cami, hair like honey. He watches her for too long, the way her hips move to a rhythm nobody else quite seems to get like she does, the length of her ponytail as it swings to and fro.

When she turns and meets his eyes, he’s a goner. And at the end of night, when he backs her into his apartment, he realises quickly that whoever this girl is, she takes what she wants and he’ll take what he can get.

GWYNRIEL

Ribbons (drabble)

Finally, we sleep (drabble)

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duskandstarlight · 4 years ago

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Wings & Shadows

Notes: I had a few of you asking me for Azriel’s POV during Wings Flames & Shadows and eventually the idea stuck! This is set at the end of the fic, when Azriel finds Cassian at the Winter Court to address the fact that Nesta is Cassian’s mate. I loved writing this and I really hope you like it, too. It was strangely easy to get into Azriel’s head for this one <3

For those of you who want to refresh your memories of what happens in WF&S then you can descent into this smutty pit of hell here.

Let me know what you think! And just a friendly reminder that if you like what I write I’d love you to reblog so it can reach more people--thank you <3

Wings & Shadows Azriel POV

Despite being alive for over half a millennia, Cassian had never truly learnt to master his emotions. Whilst Azriel had honed the true art of a cold, blank mask from a young age, the general’s hazel eyes had always been a pathway straight to his heart if you knew where to look. But since the war—since living with Nesta—those underlying expressions had become something else entirely. Something stark and intensely sad. Something more distant and troubled as he worried over the ghost of a girl he had once known and loved.

That was not to say that Cassian did not attempt to hide the torment that wanted to wrangle its way across his features whenever he was forced to leave Nesta. Usually he laced over the agonised expression with barked, easy laughter and arrogant, drawling banter, but for the entirety of their trip to Kallias’s Winter Court, Cassian was… not present. Oh, he still plastered on his carefully orchestrated blend of fake, wide smiles and deathly calm as he usually did—a combination that should not be possible (although Azriel supposed Cassian had always defied the impossible)—but it was as if a light had flickered out somewhere and none of it rang true.

Rhys had clocked it immediately but knew better than to comment. He had learnt to keep his mouth shut when it came to his mate’s sister, even if it meant that Cassian’s duty to protect was reliant on muscle-memory and reflex rather than calculated assessment during a court visit. So his High Lord’s eyes had only flickered with faint starlight, the way they always did when a cog turned and clicked into place in his mind, before he turned back to congratulate Kallias and a glowing Vivianne on their pregnancy.

But given Azriel’s presence in Illyria the night before their trip to Winter, he knew just how fiercely every troubled thought and every laboured breath of Cassian’s was consumed with her—with the too slim female he had left behind. The female who was most likely slipping back into the lifeless husk she had been before Azriel’s hands had run over her body and Cassian’s mouth had lavished love and adoration with every press of his lips to her bare skin.

When the three of them had finished, it had only taken one look at his Cassian’s face and the outstretched wing he had thrown over Nesta’s body for Azriel to know that he should keep his distance. He had trodden dangerous ground when he had willingly engaged in that tryst—if it could even be called that. Whatever humming energy that whipped between Cassian and Nesta was certainly not just fucking, even if they wanted to pretend that was all it was. In the past, he and Cassian did not make a habit of discussing their shared social conquests, but slipping back into that brotherly familiarity had felt… tenuous this time. And whilst all memory of Nesta had been erased from Azriel’s skin, vanilla and jasmine still remained entangled with Cassian’s pine and musk, like the imprint of a frozen memory in time. Of when Nesta had been awake and glowing. Of when Cassian had wrapped her in his wings—protecting her from the trauma he seemed to know would come knocking as soon as he left her again.

But after three days of subtle distance to let Cassian cool off, all Azriel had achieved was an icy chasm of separation between he and his brother and a look on Cassian’s face that was so tortured Azriel couldn’t believe that nobody else had stepped in to ask what was wrong.

That was not to say that Mor’s chocolate brown eyes weren’t shimmering with concern or that Feyre hadn’t examined Cassian for a touch too long, but neither of them had dared to broach the subject. And whilst Mor would have usually probed Azriel for more information or fretted to him about what they should do, that easy familiarity between them had been severed.

Azriel could not see it ever being mended.

So, perhaps it was Azriel’s own grief that had him seeking out his brother on that third morning. Because even though his own heart was battered and aching, Cassian’s was worse. Azriel had learnt that the moment Cassian had sunk his teeth into the pale column of Nesta’s neck as she shattered between them—a mate territorially claiming his mate.

Mates. They were mates, for fuck’s sake.

Azriel should have known. He had suspected, of course, that Nesta Archeron was not just a female who’d managed to get under Cassian’s skin. Azriel knew Cassian better than anyone, after all. His brother had more female conquests than anyone he knew, his sexual appetite ravenous, yet Azriel’s shadows hadn’t needed to whisper to him in order for Azriel to glean that Cassian had not bedded anyone since Rhys had returned to the Night Court. Had not even glanced a female’s way since his eyes had first locked with the eldest Archeron sister in the mortal realm and snarled at her that he saw someone who had let her younger sister risk her life everyday whilst Nesta stayed safely at home. And even as Cassian’s eyes had gleamed feral as she had dismissed him, Azriel had known then that Nesta was not just another opponent. That she was in fact, most likely, the only person who was evenly matched to the male who was rumoured to be a warrior-God given flesh.

And maybe if Azriel’s judgement hadn’t been so fogged with Mor’s rejection then he would have been clear-headed enough to clamp down on his arousal and refuse to engage in a game of strip poker that could only have gone one way. But Azriel hadn’t been thinking straight. Had only thought about how even if Nesta was too gaunt, she was still undeniably devastating: her curves sweeping; her breasts full and aching. She had tasted like sin and distraction, and when her smoky grey eyes had turned from closed off to vulnerable and eager to please, his shadows had eddied out of control, flinging themselves out wide as he spilled onto her chest, her stomach...

That had been the final straw for Cassian.

Azriel didn’t blame him. He would not have had the same self-restraint himself.

The bitter winter air was sharp enough to burn when Azriel stepped out onto the otherwise deserted balcony of the breakfast room. Cassian’s wings should have been tucked in tight, but it was obvious that he was too far into his head, even as he seemingly stared out at the landscape before him. At the rolling slopes of white that stretched out for miles and miles until they were cut off by the green stripe across the landscape, where the pine trees of the forest lined the horizon.

Scuffing his shoes on the stone to alert Cassian of his arrival, Azriel stepped beyond the magical shields protecting the palace from the elements outside. The fiery crackle of pine logs was replaced by the crisp, bracing scent of winter as Azriel’s long legs carried him smoothly to the stone balcony wall to stand beside his brother.

He did not glance sideways at Cassian. Did not risk it, as he asked bluntly, “Did you want to do it?”

Cassian’s chest jerked and Azriel knew he was holding in a huff of breath—or more likely, a snort. A ginormous polar bear stepped out from between the snow-dusted pine trees, and together they watched the way the animals fur rippled with power and unimaginable strength as it padded across the ice covered fields. “Obviously,” he drawled.

Azriel’s sharp look was enough for Cassian to finally turn his head.

“You’re mates,” Azriel stated. His voice remained deep and lifeless—simple—but his words were soft and private. Only for he and Cassian.

Pain struck across his brother’s expression, the movement so swift and blinding that Azriel felt his heart clench. Shadows coiled and whispered around his ears, but Azriel silently ordered them to cease and they became quiet. “Yes,” Cassian forced out between gritted teeth.

Fists curled and uncurled at his friend’s sides, as if waiting for the questions and the derision, but Azriel only dipped his chin. “I suspected,” he said, “but when you initiated it all, I thought you couldn’t be, because there would be no way that you’d allow me to join you both otherwise.”

The grunt that emitted from Cassian’s throat curled downwards at the end, threatening to turn into a growl. Those fists tightened again and Azriel wondered how soon he’d have to blend into shadow. “You both wanted it. I wasn’t going to let you do it without me, was I?”

The torturous truth in the words hit home. Had Azriel been too blinded by his recent conversation with Mor to have judged what was right and what was wrong? But… no. Azriel had scented that room—the consensual desire thrumming between all of them. And he had not forgotten the look Cassian had shared with him that had told Azriel he was game—the raised, taunting eyebrow.

“You know I wouldn’t have done it without you,” Azriel replied carefully. “Nesta wouldn’t have done it without you.”

Cassian’s silence vibrated with a tense energy and Azriel understood the words his brother still could not voice aloud: he needed to be home with his mate. To check that she was ok. How could the others not see how badly Cassian was faring? He looked as if he had barely slept. Dark rings hung beneath his eyes as sharp as bruises and the agony wrought upon his face was so fierce it made Azriel’s shadows cluster to his brother, tendrils coiling out towards him.

His brother did not acknowledge them, even as one curled around his shoulder—a cold, gentle hand.

“Does she know?” Azriel asked.

It had been something Azriel had already considered. Feyre hadn’t recognised when the mating bond had snapped into place for she and Rhys and she had been human just like Nesta—had not grown up knowing about the bond and what it meant. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to ask Cassian when he had understood what he and Nesta were. There were so many times that Azriel had suspected that something far greater than lust or even simply love existed between the two of them. But then the war had finished and Nesta had become… empty—a byproduct of grief and death—and any obvious hope on Cassian’s part that the two of them might become something more had disintegrated into ash.

Steamed breath clouded the sky as his friend exhaled. The sound was bitter, somehow. “You should have asked, Does she care?”

“She cares,” Azriel replied, not waiting to pause for breath or to even blink. He had seen the way they interacted together now after all—how their bodies blended into one being, as if they had orchestrated a dance that only they knew. “Her eyes have this hollow quality most of the time. But sometimes, when she looks at you, it’s as if you have woken her up.”

Silence again as Cassian stared fixedly out at the expanse of white—at the fae that were bundled in thick furs and holding on tightly to leather reigns as they guided velvet-antlered reindeer and their curved sleighs through the snow.

“She’s good for you,” Azriel continued, offering up a truth—a blessing he knew his brother so desperately craved.

He was pressing far more than he usually did. Azriel was often a male of few words, but it was not often he saw his brother this lost. And Azriel supposed he had been privy to something nobody else had besides Cassian—a Nesta that was not sharp and prickly but open and unguarded in a way that had both hurt and given him breath. Azriel had seen the light spark back in her eyes when Cassian had bowed to kiss her. But Azriel wondered if Cassian knew how much she had woken him up, too. How for once, Cassian had not tried to be anyone but himself.

His brother’s brow furrowed with what Azriel translated as disbelief. “She doesn’t let you pretend,” Azriel clarified simply, in a tone that was not up for discussion.

A muscle ticked in Cassian’s jaw, but he merely crossed his arms tightly over his broad chest. The leather of his armour creaked, the sound swept away with the moaning of the wind. “It was hard not to be territorial,” he admitted eventually, glancing quickly at Azriel.

It was an apology, Azriel realised and a chuckle left his lips before he could stifle it. Cassian’s eyes widened in surprise. It was not often the Shadowsinger laughed so easily, but Azriel couldn’t help it. Cassian had certainly been restrained beyond measure, but there had been times when every muscle in Azriel’s body had been braced for Cassian to launch himself across the room and throttle him.

But Azriel did not bother saying any of that, even as his lips curved at the memory. He only pushed away from the railing wreathed in frost-covered ivy. It signified an end to the conversation but more importantly, what had occurred between the three of them—a clear line that would not be crossed again.

“Who knew you were so restrained,” he deadpanned, his voice falling into a near drawl that had Cassian barking a laugh. Rhys had asked Azriel to travel to Illyria in order to gather the latest intelligence from the camps and report back on the latest whisperings of the rebellion. He was already late. So he only nodded at his brother as his power swirled around him, ready to bleed him in and out of shadow until he arrived where he needed to be.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he told Cassian, and then everything went dark.

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