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separatist-apologist · 25 days

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The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned.

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn.

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was.

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy.

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way.

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing.

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it.

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser.

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much?

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering.

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too.

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves.

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit.

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water.

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job.

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it.

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees.

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions.

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on?

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway.

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut.

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped.

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance.

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers.

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow.

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair.

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons.

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night.

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth.

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried.

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words.

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance.

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves.

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide.

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared.

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he?

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too.

But life wasn’t fair.

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better.

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta.

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him.

Perfect.

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would.

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done.

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest.

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body.

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words.

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall.

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy.

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back.

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought.

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top.

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go.

Not now, not ever.

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck.

Mine, she’s mine.

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything.

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock.

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving.

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case.

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped.

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would.

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good.

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory.

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

#nessian #better late than ever right??

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nikethestatue · 3 months

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Never will I ever, EVER understand the hold that Lucien Vanserra has on parts of this fandom.

I am not a Lucien hater. To me, he is a throwaway character that did a good job being a comic relief and first friend to Feyre in ACOTAR. And that's it.

But my god. Every day there are all these glowing, obsessive posts about him. About how he deserves everything. About how he deserves his mate. His happiness. About how Elain is a slut for even considering anyone else, let alone trying to kiss another man while Lucien is around. That Feyre is an ungrateful bitch. Rhys is a Lucien abuser. Azriel is an unhinged maniac who wants to kill Lucien. Lucien suffered the most in the entire series. Nothing compares to the horrors that Lucien lived through. Lucien is homeless. Oppressed. Depressed. He doesn't have parents. He doesn't have friends. He is abandoned. Woe is Lucien.

And I am just like...wut?

You know who suffered more than Lucien? Literally EVERYONE in ACOTAR. Not to play trauma olympics, but really? Lucien is the most unfortunate character is ACOTAR? Are people nuts?

You know whose fate is 100 times worse?

Clotho!

Gwyn Berdara!

Rhysand!

Tamlin!

Elain Acheron!

Feyre Archeon!

Every Priestess in the Library!

And many more.

Lucien is a High Fae who's lived a privileged life his whole life. Yes, he's got a mean dad. His girlfriend was murdered. He lost his eye. None of these are easy things to live through. But I don't recall him watching his entire family die violently. Has he ever struggled with poverty? Didn't have enough to eat? Was he enslaved? Was he ever violently tortured? Was he forced into an unwanted marriage? Was he turned into a human against his will? Watched thousands of his people slaughtered in a war?

Elain's history and suffering are brushed under the rug like they mean nothing, but poor Lucien, who's moved from palace, to manor, to palace wearing his cream pants and glossy boots is the epitome of suffering. Rhys was tortured by his dad more intensely and cruelly than anything that Beron's ever done to Lucien. Somehow Emerie, who is permanently mutilated, truly oppressed, is a 'lesser' Fae, violently abused by her father, and not accepted by her people, is just an afterthought, but Lucien is praised and cried over (for basically exactly the same things as Emerie is living through) like he is the most tragic character in history.

I don't know. I don't get it. I will never get it.

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juvive-1234 · 30 days

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Here are some predictions I have for dark rise 3 (going from most predictable to me being delusional to the point it’s literally just hcs)

Sun king bad, Dark king not as terrible as everyone makes him to be (History is written by the winners afterall)

Violet leaves the group to join Will

Visander x Philip is a doomed pairing and one of them either dies or betrays the other

Devon and Visander have another conversation about Devon’s relationship to Tom and Devon calls Visander out for being stuck in the past

Cyprian finds out Ettore is his father and after a computer rebooting moment he lashes out at him for leaving him (Bonus points if Cyprian specifically gets mad at him for abandoning not only him, but also Marcus and his mother who is obviously dead)

Will’s magic door opens

Will gets Sarcean’s memories (back?) and figures out how the collar really works

Tom’s gonna die in someway and Devon finally lets himself feel anger and sadness when he sees his dead body

Or Devon dies and finally remembers what promise he made to Visander

Violet is actually the one that needs to kill Tom to come into her true power

Cyprian loses himself to the shadow and Violet has to kill him

Elizabeth snaps at anyone and says she doesn’t know anything because she’s just a child

Justice x Marcus is confirmed (Bonus points if James recalling moments when Marcus was captured and Marcus was calling out Justice’s name like someone who is deep in yearning)

James tells Will how his mom died and sheds a few tears (everyone place your bets on how she died I’m saying James accidentally killed her or she was on patrol with a few Stewards and got killed by enemies)

Grace gets a girlfriend (Shes a lesbian in a room with two raging homosexuals and a mentally unstable asexual)

Carver, Emery and Beatrix get mentioned once, maybe even twice

James casually drops Carver and Emery were dating (His source is that Emery freed James, he said he knew Emery liked him and Emery just says that he’s dating Carver and James is like ohmygod no way (he knew those two were gay asf))

Ok thats all I’m gonna go write some more of my Carver x Emery fanfic 👍

#dark rise #dark heir #will kempen #james st clair #marcus #cyprian #violet ballard #justice dark rise #Elizabeth kent #visander #devon #tom ballard #sarcean #carver #emery #beatrix #take your screenshots of the last two points its gonna be canon #(Im so sad abt their deaths :( )

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redqueenphoenix · 7 months

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State Championship (TWD Fanfiction Part 14)

State Championship Part 14

(A TWD Fan Fiction)

I do not own any of the rights to The Walking Dead, nor do I own any of the characters mentioned from here on in, other than Victoria Hawkins. Some situations have been changed and some people may have been switched in this alternate universe.

Coach Negan Smith X Female OC

Word Count: 2176

~*~

Part 14

Before Victoria knew it about a year had gone by as she stayed at the St. John Dairy farm with her sister. She had found herself keeping busy with helping Drew and Danny keep the farm safe while Erika tended to the animals with Brenda. It seemed to be going very well after they got the electric fence completely set up around the farm and working properly. She had gotten proficient with using a gun as well as other objects to fend off the walkers with Drew’s help. He seemed to like her a lot, but she paid him no mind.

Over the course of the year, Victoria and Erika saw plenty of people come and go from the farm, talking about possible settlements and encampments that had been set up. Kinda like safe zones for people and this intrigued Victoria. She often wondered if Negan was out there in one of the settlements, but never brought it up to anyone.

One night a particular group had made their way to the farm and asked for refuge from the horrors outside the fence and Ma gave the okay for them to stay in the barn for the night. Being the kind soul Victoria was, she brought food from the house to them.

“Dinner’s on, we made food over in the guest house and wondered if you guys wanted some?” She brought the basket of food into the barn with the newcomers.

The young mother smiled as she held her son close, “Emery would you like some dinner?”

The young boy lit up as he nodded, “thank you miss!”

Victoria sat the basket down for the group, “I’m Victoria. If you need anything please feel free to come over. My sister and I have been staying in the guest house.”

The young mother smiled as she reached into the basket, “I’m Debbie,” she pointed to the man leaning against a hay bale, “that’s my husband Henry. And this is my son Emery.” She looked around, “William must be up in the house talking with those nice people about us staying longer than just the night.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” She smiled warmly, “I’m sure they will let you guys. The St. John’s are nice people.” Victoria turned to head out of the barn and made her way back to the guest house.

As the sun was setting over the farm, Erika made her way from the main house in a hurry. “Sis, we have a problem.” Her eyes were wide. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but Drew just told me that we are running out of food and we can’t feed everyone.”

Victoria shook her head, “that’s bound to happen, the cows haven’t been doing so great.”

“I overheard some weird stuff, which I don't think I was supposed to hear, but I think they are talking about eating those nice people in the barn.”

Victoria’s eyes went wide, “what!?” She quietly exclaimed as she looked up to the house. “You must have heard wrong.”

“No, I promise you I didn't. Ma said that they were already working on cooking one of them up.”

Victoria looked to her sister with concern, “then I need you to pack up and get ready to run.” She motioned to the house, “have the family ready too. I’m going up to find out what’s going on.”

“Be careful. Don’t let them know that you know.” Erika warned as she headed back to the guest house to pack up their bags.

Quietly Victoria made her way up to the house, slinking along the side of it towards the kitchen window. She made sure to stay low and out of sight as she eavesdropped into the conversation that was taking place.

“Ma, the girls have been important to us. We have to tell ‘em.” Drew’s voice almost sounded like he was pleading with her.

“Fine,” Ma sounded different, almost like a woman with no feelings at all. A complete and total different person, “we already killed one of the newcomers, but he was scrawny. He won’t feed us long and it won’t take those people long to realize he ain't coming back from the house.”

“Then we need to send them on their way or utilize them too.” Danny said coldly as his footsteps paced the kitchen.

Victoria’s heart stopped, her sister was right. The family that took them in were eating people and on top of that planning to slaughter that wonderful family down in the barn. She wouldn't allow that to happen. Quietly she made her way back down to the walkway between the guest house and the barn. Noticing her sister was standing in the partially open barn door waving at her.

“So?” Erika asked, handing Victoria’s backpack to her.

Slipping into the barn she shook her head. “You heard right.” She leaned down to make sure Erika packed everything of importance. Her family photos, her iPod, some clothes and provisions. It was all there. Standing up she shouldered the bag, “I don’t know if we are going to be able to sneak out without them noticing, but it is worth a try.”

Debbie stepped forward with a concerned look on her face, “what about William? Where is he?”

Breathing a heavy sigh she shook her head while looking down, “he’s gone. They disposed of him…” She was unable to tell them that he was the St. John’s dinner that night. “We have to move. Does your truck have any gas?”

Henry nodded, “we have about a half a tank, been siphoning it here and there to get away from the walkers.”

“You don’t think they siphoned the gas from the truck for the generators do you, sis?” Erika asked, looking out the barn up to the house.

She shook her head. “I doubt it. We had to raid the gas station up the street a few days ago. The generators had plenty.”

“Then I say, we make a break for it.” Debbie stepped forward with her son behind her, “you two are more than welcome to come with us. It’s the least we can do for you since you warned us and you're helping us escape.”

Victoria nodded to her sister, “alright.” She pushed the barn door open a bit more, noticing the lights in the house now that the sun had gone down more. “They seem preoccupied with whatever they are doing. We should go now. Stay low and quiet.”

The family nodded to Victoria as she made her way out of the barn with them behind her. Slowly and quietly they made for the truck. Henry, Debbie and Emery took the cab and the two girls slipped into the back.

As soon as the truck started the front door to the house came flying open and a bunch of cussing ran out over the farm. Henry hit the gas as the sounds of gunshots rang out through the farm. Peppering the side of the truck and almost hitting the girls in the back.

“You girls alright?” Henry asked as they hit a dirt road and blasted through the fence at the front of the farm.

“Yeah, are you guys?” Erika said through the small window.

Henry nodded and then looked down at his gas gauge, “we’re not going to get too far, but we will get far enough away from those freaks.”

“Have you girls heard of a place called Alexandria?” Debbie asked as she turned to talk to them through the window.

Victoria shook her head, “I can't say that I have.”

Debbie smiled as she handed a map through the window, “It’s said to be a safe zone, like a settlement. Some guy named Rick Grimes runs the place. That’s where we have been trying to get to.”

Taking the map she placed it in her pocket, “is it really a safe zone?”

“That’s what we’ve heard and that’s good enough for me to want to check out.” Henry said as he turned down another road.

“Alexandria…” Erika said almost dreamily. “The place sounds pretty.”

“It can sound pretty all it wants, but that doesn’t mean it’s real.” Victoria settled back in the truck bed and closed her eyes.

“Well we can always hope.” Erika curled up with her sister.

A few hours later the truck sputtered and died. Rolling to a stop as the sun was coming up. The sudden jerk of the gas running out of the truck woke Victoria up from her sleep. Reaching over she gently woke her sister.

“Ride’s over girls. Trucks made her last hooray.” Henry said as they got out of the truck. “Time to take a walk.”

Victoria leaned down and picked up a machete from the truck bed and fastened it to her belt as she jumped down to the ground. Erika followed, grabbing a pipe that was in the back of the truck.

“Are you sure this is the right road towards the train cars?” Debbie asked as she held Emery’s hand.

“Positive.” Henry smiled as he looked down to the map he was carrying. “It’s a couple days' walk, but this is the right way.”

Erika looked over to Victoria with a smile, “hey, maybe things will look up when we get to this place.”

“Let’s hope.” She said as she fell into step with the family.

As they walked they heard the sounds of the walkers, moaning, wheezing and shuffling around. It was horrifying, but it was their life now. They made their way down the path and kept their eyes peeled for danger. Soon they realized that there were more and more walkers in the area, which made Victoria concerned.

Victoria pulled her sister close as they walked due to the moaning and wheezing getting louder. “Erika, I think we are about to be in some major trouble. Stay near me.”

Erika nodded as she noticed some walkers making their way from the treeline towards them. She grabbed her sister's hand as they made their way closer.

“Shit guys.” Henry said as he pulled his gun from his belt. Firing off a shot at one of the walkers that got close to them.

“Don’t! Noise attracts them!” Victoria quietly exclaimed as more came out of the treeline. Her eyes went wide as they came clambering out of the trees towards them. There were too many to successfully fend off.

“We’re gonna have to make a run for it.” Debbie said as she grabbed her son’s hand.

Victoria nodded as she swung her machete at another walker that got dangerously close. After bringing it down, the women took off running with Emery.

Another gunshot echoed as Henry grunted. Debbie turned to look and saw that a walker had bit into her husband and she let out a painful sob. “Don’t look, Emry! Don’t look baby.”

Victoria felt a fear creep into her chest as another set of walkers came out of the trees in front of them. Biting her lip she swung on the walker, missing and striking it in the side of the legs. She thought she had incapacitated it when it wiggled around and grabbed her leg.

Emery broke free of his mother’s hands and ran to Victoria’s defense. Grabbing the walker’s good leg and pulling backwards on it to free Victoria. As she got free Emery stumbled back right into the awaiting arms of another walker.

“NO!” Debbie screamed as she ran for her son, the walker on the ground grabbing her and bringing her down. It’s horrid jaw ripping a piece of her leg out as she struggled to get to her son.

Victoria felt a cold anger shoot through her as she brought her heel down into the walker’s head that was on the ground. Moving she brought her machete around and hit the one holding Emery.

It was too late; they were both bitten.

“Go on without us.” Debbie drug herself towards her son’s body on the ground. “You need to go.” She pointed. “Alexandria will keep you two safe. It’s too late for us.” tears came down her face as she held her son. “Thank you for your kindness at the farm. You deserve to be safe, girls.”

Victoria nodded to Debbie as she took Erika’s hand, running down the path as fast as they could, until their legs could no longer run. Breathing heavily, Victoria pulled out the map that Debbie had given her. Looking down at it, then bringing her eyes up with a smile. She couldn’t believe it, the tracks that were on the map were right there in front of them. They were almost to Alexandria.

~*~

The end... no it's just the beginning. Will Victoria ever see Negan again? If she does will he remember her? Make sure you continue the journey of Victoria and Erika Hawkins in the next fanfiction titled "Against the Wind."

~*~

Thank you all for taking this journey with me and riding this fanfiction out to the semi end. You're love and support has meant a lot to me with this work of love. I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I have with writing it! Much love to you all!

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starlightrows · 19 hours

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Hello and welcome back to Krax Watches. Tonight I am binge watching The Bad Batch Season 3, Episodes 10-14.

Episode 10 — Identity Crisis

• The little kids being imprisoned made me cry. Like immediately. I’m on my period okay? Leave me alone

• Why haven’t they killed Nala Se?

• I was hoping we would have more info on Emerie by now. Like is she really a clone? And if she is, is she a female clone of Jango or a clone of someone else?

• I know it’s already been established that Cad Bane is a known child abductor, I hate looking at it with my own two eyeballs every time. ITS LITERALLY A BABY

• I’m so glad Boba Fett murdered Cad Bane like 35 years later.

Episode 11 — Point of No Return

• The second she put down Lula and Tech’s nerd goggles, the ship was toast

• I hope someone kills Sid. Snitches get stitches and also fuck you

• Hunter really fell from like a hundred feet up and just swam his ass back to shore

• I hate that this season has made me go back on my hatred of Crosshair. I still think he’s a crusty dusty musty asshole. But god damn am I weak for sibling tropes, especially older brother tropes.

• You just know he is beating the ever loving shit out of himself for losing Omega to the Empire

• Mystery masked guy, that is definitely Tech, really just allowed Omega to be loose back there behind him while flying at the end there… I know this is still sort of a kids show and they would never actually do this… but Omega could totally bash him in the back of the head while he’s flying. Or garrot him or something. Maybe even yank off his helmet.

Episode 12 — Juggernaut

• Omega looking at Emerie… hello traitor

• Kinda forgot that Crosshair and Phee haven’t met yet

• Phee still refers to Tech as brown eyes, cute! But don’t all of them have brown eyes… ya know… because they’re clones

• …. What was Admiral Rampart arrested for again? I remember hating him… but I can’t remember anything else about him

• Phee is cool as fuck and I love her

• Rampart is racist… alienist… whatever, fuck that guy

• Wouldn’t it have been a wild connection if Rampart was in a work camp or work facility like the one Cassian was in?! Way harder to get him out, but would have been a cool connection

• Wooooooo! Jail break!

• Playing chicken with a tank!

• Lmao throwing Rampart like a sack of potatoes

• I kind of can’t figure out what it is they are trying to accomplish with Omega and the other high M count kiddos. Maybe I’m just dense

Episode 13 — Into the Breach

• It makes me intensely sad thinking about the fact that Omega has spent the majority of her little life in captivity

• They’re making the children take care of the literal baby

• Echo my boy! You’ve returned!

• I like how Omegas legs are almost too big to fit under the table, she’s groaning up 😫

• She’s so devious and crafty, I love Omega

• They stripped the paint off their armor. Why does that feel so foreboding???

• Rampart is cranky because he hasn’t gotten dick in months, damn shame

• Even with the paint stripped off their armor, they look wildly out of place

• Wrecker playing is playing Candy Crush, scrolling space Tumblr, swiping on galactic Hinge, reading fanfic on space AO3

• I want to cuddle that owl baby so bad

• I love bitchy little R2 units

• Crosshair saying, Relax, Echo’s on it, makes me emotional

• Literally can’t believe that fucking worked

Episode 14 — Flash Strike

• Howmst the fuck did they know that it was Clone Force 99 and Rampart? They didn’t get caught by anyone

• I feel like Wrecker hasn’t gotten to do anything or have any personality this season :/ he’s kinda just there

• This bitch with the bangs is going to be an ongoing problem. I hope the children kick her shins until she croaks or something

• Lamo what does Rampart sound like that?!

• Echo really needs to get a prosthetic hand at some point his little screwdriver nub is a dead give away

• Did they leave Batcher on Pabu? I didn’t realize she was missing until now

• Rampart have ZERO self preservation skills. There is almost nothing preventing the batch from killing him

• Inventory droids always have a stick up their ass

• Thanks for the hand! Oh my god 😂 I was right!!

• Please let the monster eat Rampart, PLEASE let the monster eat Rampart. PLEASEEEEEEE

• What the fuuuuuck? I forgot about the Zillo Beast

• I was such an anxious child. I would have been so worried about Omega I would have thrown up

• Omega’s poker face is iconic!

• Let’s go Emerie! You have exactly one opportunity to not fuck this up

The final episode next week is going to be chaotic as fuck. I have no idea what to expect. I feel like there are waaay too many loose ends to tie up. Which further leads me to believe that there’s going to be another spin off about Omega or about Rex or something.

#Krax Chats #The Bad Batch #TBB #tbb spoilers

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scarlettdragnastan · 2 years

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The Lies We Tell Ourselves- An ACOSF/ACOTAR fanfic.

ACOSF fix-it fic.

I’m going to give Nesta’s arc justice because what SJM did was basically brush all Nesta’s trauma and mental illnesses and made her apologize for everything and everyone- even for things that were not her fault. A lot of things weren’t addressed and the ending was rushed. Nestas’s healing journey is not over. In fact it’s not even close to being over. Her sense of worth is still shattered and her self-hatred is still so palpable. This fic will hold EVERYONE accountable. Nesta and everyone in the inner circle will be held accountable for their actions. But they will also be allowed to heal. Heal and be loved and be allowed to grow as characters and develop. Because that’s how it should be. Enjoy :)

Chapter 1

It had been exactly one week since they won the Blood Rite and since she killed the mortal queen. Since Feyre almost died. Since Nyx was born.

One week since she and Cassian accepted the mating bond.

Cassian has been elated; never missing a chance to call Nesta his mate and going crazy with Rhysand planning the mating ceremony. Half of Velaris was invited, and it unnerved Nesta so much.

She never wanted this much attention, but it made Cassian happy. She hadn't seen him frown once this past week. This is where the guilt took charge and resided in Nesta again because she should be feeling as happy as her mate.

And she is happy, it is not like she is doing this because she's forced into it, unlike the other events that happened in her life. But Nesta excepted she’s be happier and more excited.

Neither Cassian nor Nesta have had much time to talk the past week; Cassian was spending his time organizing the ceremony and managing the panic that fell on the Illyrian camps and mountains after the disastrous Blood Rite. Nesta, on the other hand, has opted to stay with Emerie for the time being, even though Rhys and Feyre have gifted her the House of the Wind.

Nesta loves the house dearly- it was her very first friend here but she felt like a prisoner in it. Not being able to leave and enter it as freely as she wanted... it was suffocating. Besides, she didn’t want a repeat of the whole appartment fiasco. She would never ask Feyre for money ever again. She knows her sister would give her anything in a heartbeat, and she knows Rhysand will literally give her anything she asks for if all the gifts he has been sending her are anything to go by. But Nesta remained firm in her decision to be financially independent of her sister. She would never want to be in a position where people would shame her for anything again, God knows she does a lot of that on her own. At least now, she has enough self-respect to not tarnish what was left of her pride. The whole apartment fiasco still was a sore spot for Nesta; it was a trashy apartment indeed, and she wanted to say that her sister and Rhys did not have the right to do what they did, however, at the end of the day it was their money that the apartment was bought with.

So Nesta made herself a promise to never rely on anyone this way again, and she's been job hunting in secret for a while now, the only people who know about it are Emerie and Gwyn. She doesn't know what will happen after the mating ceremony, or where Cassian and her will live, but she wanted to have a safe haven for herself where she can return to. It's the first thing she has wanted for herself in a really long time, so she's trying to save up more money and buy her own place.

When she first asked Emerie if she could stay with her for a while, she fully expected the female to say no and was surprised when Emerie almost jumped in excitement before extending the invitation to Gwyn, who turned it down with a sad face. But nobody pushed her into anything considering the last time she stepped out of the library she was literally abducted and thrown into the Blood Rite.

Cassian was stunned when Nesta told him she'd be spending the nights at Emerie's. She could feel a twinge of hurt across the bond they shared. But Nesta coudln't stay in the House of the Wind or in her sister's large residence with the rest of the Inner Circle. Though she was almost tempted to give in to his puppy eyes multiple times. Thank God she didn't.

The punch to her jaw that knocked her off her feet brought her back to reality.

"Nesta! I'm so sorry, I really thought you'd dodge!" Gwyn's concerned voice touched her heart- still not used to this tone (rightfully so), Nesta always felt awkward when she was at the receiving end of it.

Training resumed two days after the Blood Rite, and it was actually Gwyn who requested they return to training, and the other two followed her, claiming that training made them feel safer. Both Cassia and Azriel were very glad because they missed the little dynamic the five of them had going on.

"It's not your fault." Nesta groaned as she massaged her sore jaw. Gwyn's punches were getting stronger each day.

"Nesta! Are you okay?" Cassian jogged up to them, worry etching across his face. Nesta nodded and let Gwyn help her stand up.

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you want to rest for a few minutes? You've been distracted almost all week." Azriel quietly said, his shadows brushing the exposed skin of her arm.

"I'm fine. I'll be more careful." Nesta's reply earned her another assessing look from Azriel, but he didn't comment further and just nodded at her. Emerie clicked her tongue when Cassian reached to rub Nesta's back, and the male sent her a questioning look.

Both Gwyn and Emerie were distant with him the past week. At first, he chucked it up to nerves. After all, the three of them jumped straight back into training- never taking time off no matter how much Azriel or Cassian told them to.

"I'm good. Let's resume our training." Nesta said, her cheeks tinted red at all the fuss around her. She's never liked anyone fussing over her, and she's never had anyone fuss over her before Cassian and the two valkyries beside her.

Training after that went without a hitch, except for the dirty looks that Emerie and Gwyn kept sending Cassian. "What did you do brother?" Azriel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing!"

"Unacceptable. You must have done something to piss them off."

"Piss off Az."

Azriel huffed out a laugh, but his gaze landed on the priestess- like it always did after practice. She was reminding the other two females not to have too much fun without her when they go back to Emerie's place. This past week, training has been different, and it was like a rift was created between the three females and the two males training them. Before it used to be easy, they'd go for lunch after training, they'd sit and talk and joke around... Now though, it feels like the Valkyries in training are doing everything they can to maintain a distance.

This distance is hurting him as much as it is hurting Cassian. But with Cass, both Gwyn and Emerie are much colder.

"Screw this." Cassian puffed his chest. "I'm going over there to ask what the hell is wrong." With a nod to himself, Cassian marched over to the three females before Azriel could stop him.

"Hello, ladies." He beamed at them, earning a small smile from Nesta. "Just wanted to say that you were great today, and wanted to ask if you'd like to join us for lunch maybe?"

"No." Emerie's sharp glare made him flinch. Beside her, Nesta looked at him with an unreadable expression, one that was making his head hurt because of how much he was trying to decipher and understand it.

"Oh." Disappointment adored his face before he turned to address Nesta. "What about you Nes? I've missed you and it's been a while since we had lunch together. Maybe we can discuss the ceremony?" Every time he looks at her, all he can see is Nesta holding baby Nyx in her arms, bloodied and wounded but smiling with such warmth and love that it made his heart soar in happiness. He hates himself for it, but he keeps imagining Nesta- as his official mate, and wife, carrying their child and looking at it the way she gazed down at Nyx every time she held him.

"Sure."

"Nesta..." Gwyn tugged on her hand in concern and Nesta gave her a small reassuring smile before turning to her friends- her sisters, and squeezing them into a tight hug. "I'll see you at the house?" She asked Emerie and Gwyn nodded solemnly at her, concern etched across her face.

Nesta knew she wasn't spending time with Cassian as she should, and she feels guilty about it, but it wasn't like he was actively seeking her out too. He was very busy with the war camps and the troops. Nesta herself was very busy too; training has taken up a lot of her time, and her secret job hunting with Emerie was going slower than expected. Any other free time she has, she usually spends it with Feyre trying to help her as much as she can with Nyx- not like she needs Nesta's help. Elain has been great with Nyx and she found her place amongst the Inner Circle fairly quickly. The thought of the middle Archeron sent waves of sadness and pain through Nesta's heart.

While her relationship with Feyre is getting better each day, Nesta's relationship wth Elain is very rocky, and Nesta would be lying if she said she didn't miss her sister. The same sister who Nesta protected all her life, the same sister Nesta had been prepared to marry an abusive asshole for. But Elain left Nesta at the first bump in the road. As much as it pains Nesta to admit, Elain never cared for Nesta the way Nesta cared for her.

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victoria--ft-9801 · 15 days

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Just a list... mess? Jumble? of thoughts on the happenings in The Bad Batch lately. Spoilers from TBB episode 11 season 3 and stuff up to then. They're mostly about Crosshair, but anyone who wants to talk about anything else is fine, too.

>So one of my cousins told me that he thought Crosshair was "Faking his hands shaking because he's still loyal to the empire." And "It was his choice from the beginning. His chip never worked, just like his brothers didn't."

...that's not true... right? Like, this

Is too acute of a tremor to be faked, and he didn't miss the shot because they were shaking. He missed because the ship accelerated, and he didn't have enough time to take aim. See?

Guys, please tell me this isn't true. Please, please, tell me it's not true.

And we only have 4 more episodes! How much more can go wrong for these guys?!

The facts just don't add up. If Crosshair wanted Omega captured for the empire, he wouldn't have helped her escape at the beginning of the season. I mean, I'm not super pick-apart-every-detail, but as far as I know, there hasn't been anything hinting toward him being fake.

>On a different note, I saw a post a while back, pointing out the potential significance of Crosshair being the only Bad Batch member with the same armor they wore in season one. I've run dry of ideas/theories, but does anyone have a guess as to why/its significance?

>I've heard many theories about CX-9 (I think that's the name, at least) and how he might be Tech, or Cody, etc... and by far my favorite... or least favorite thing I've seen basically pointed out that if CX-9 is Tech, Tech has destroyed his home, the Maurauder, almost killed Crosshair, hurt Wrecker, helped the empire capture Omega, and hunt his brothers. This is sad, but... if CX-9 is Tech, it's not the Tech we know.

> Finally, I think we all agree Hemlock should die, and regardless of whether or not Disney decides to show it, how do you want him to die? Should one of his experiments (either human or of other nature) go AWOL and kill him? Should Hunter or another. Member of The Bad Batch kill him? Should Emerie have a Crosshair moment and shoot him because he's being cold and mean? Tell me what you think- actually, maybe I'll make a poll. Give me what you think so I have stuff to make a Poll with!

>If anyone has any theories, I'd love to hear/discuss them because I'm into that kinda stuff. No matter how crazy or abstract.

(PS: This was my first time posting, so let me know how I did and how I can be... better, I guess?)

#bad batch #the bad batch theories #idk I suck at tags

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hellacioushag · 2 years

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acotar characters as my little pony characters

i’m bringing chaos back

Rhys: Zipp Storm

Zipp and Rhys may be royalty, but they would rather defy rules and break tradition by being their adventure seeking selves. They’re open minded and willing to work with those they thought were enemies in order to achieve their goals. Both Rhys and Zipp tend to use sarcasm and snark to hide their true natures. 16/10 would break the rules for them too

Feyre: Applejack

Applejack is an incredibly tough worker who is dedicated fully to her family. She is also a wonderful friend, often helping to bring a sense of practicality to situations. Both Feyre and Applejack are fiercely loyal and would move mountains for the ones they love. 14/10 would giddy the fuck up

Amren: Rarity

Both Amren and Rarity are quite materialistic. However, neither are above getting their “hooves” dirty when it comes to helping their friends. They both would put themselves in danger before seeing their loved ones hurt. 11/10 would kill without messing up their hair

Cassian: Hitch Trailblazer

Cassian and Hitch care deeply about their loved ones. Duty and honor are extremely important to them both. They are very friendly and tend to put others at ease, but can display a strong persona when needed. 13/10 it’s been an honor and a privilege to watch you soar o7

Nesta: Princess Luna

Princess Luna and Nesta struggle with having bad reputations that they try to overcome. They punish themselves for their past mistakes and try to put forth effort to redeem themselves in their loved ones eyes. Despite their redemption arcs they have a hard time believing in themselves.19/10 we believe in you!

Elain: Fluttershy

Fluttershy is shy, cautious, and very unsure of herself. Like Elain, Fluttershy is often underestimated as weaker than her other pony friends because of her aversion to going outside her comfort zone. Both Elain and Fluttershy would make a great friend as they embody kindness and empathy. They both have started on the journey to speaking up for themselves. 15/10 would fly through the sky with her by my side

Lucien: Princess Celestia

With the power of the sun both Lucien and Princess Celestia shine bright. They are warm and patient with those they train. They both care deeply for their people and are willing to make the tough choices to protect those that need it. They are natural leaders, but while they take their duties seriously they both know how to joke around and have fun. 17/10 where they lead, we follow

Azriel: Princess Cadance

Azriel and Princess Cadance are stubbornly persistent and would do anything protect those they love, even to the detriment of themselves. They both have kind hearts and love fiercely. 15/10 would not want to mess with them

Gwyn: Izzy Moonbow

Gwyn and Izzy are kind, caring, helpful and natural leaders. They both are very friendly, excitable, and open-minded. Izzy and Gwyn treat nearly every situation with enthusiasm and cheerfulness. Plus they both love their arts and crafts time 18/10 would make friendship bracelets with them

Emerie: Twilight Sparkle

Twilight Sparkle is known for being very kind and extremely responsible. Both enjoy reading a good book over loud parties. Like Emerie, Twilight Sparkle started off as a bit of a loner more focused on her goals than making connections with others. However, they both found deep friendships and would do anything for their loved ones. They’re both optimistic and try to always have a cheerful attitude. 14/10 would read smutty books together for hours

Mor: Pinkie Pie

Pinky Pie, like Mor, is a girl always looking to have good time. She’s the friend that bursts into giggles and will look for an excuse to party. They’re both a great friend who always encourages their loved ones to follow their dreams. They both would do anything to make their friends feel happy and safe. 16/10 would dance all night with them

Helion: Rainbow Dash

Both gay icons, both cocky and self-assured in their skills to best anyone, and both would jump in a fight without thinking to save a friend. Helion and Rainbow Dash exude a positive and confident façade, but on the inside they are a bit insecure and just looking to be loved. 20/10 would taste the rainbow

Tamlin: Derpy

Was once a fan fave that turned into an ungodly mistake and became so offensive they had to scrap and redesign... 2/10 may the power of christ compel you

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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 4 months

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How They Came to Be - Kenny x Emery

Part 1 of this series- I'll have chapters for Riley/ELP, Darby, Damian, Orange, and Hangman as well.

If anyone wants Kenny's part to be turned into an actual chapter, fully fleshed out, let me know! It's super cute.

Tag List: @katries @summertimefun1982

(Divider)

Emery realized she had fallen in love with Kenny mostly from the little things. Watching him cuddling and playing with some cats or dogs, roaming a park together, the blissful smile full of innocent intentions on his face, his blue eyes bright with happiness, his little laugh, his love of wrestling and gaming, his enthusiasm towards nerdy things, his appreciation for Japan and other cultures- She could go on and on, to be honest. Despite knowing all of this, she kept her feelings to herself, never saying anything to Kenny or even the Bucks. Why? In her mind she honestly believed he could never like her, why would he? To her, Kenny was this amazing person and was so far out of her league- why would he waste his time on her?

Kenny realized he had fallen in love with Emery when he became terrified for her well-being. It was after her match against Tenille Dashwood in 2018, which Emery had won. In the middle of celebrating her win, the valet, PJ Black, crashed the celebration. He grabbed Emery-- who was worn out from her match and almost defenseless, nursing her arm which was probably injured, and hauled Emery onto his shoulders-- looking to toss her from the ring apron down onto the floor below (and there wasn't much padding on those floors-- so it would have really hurt). Kenny had been watching backstage, and when he saw this, he ran out to the ring as fast as he could. Despite being the 'Bad Guys' (Bullet Club), he knew he couldn't let anything happen to her-- it would kill him to see her get seriously hurt. Kenny raced down the ramp to the ring, jumped up onto the ring apron, slid across the ring quickly, and pulled Emery's legs down into the ring behind them—PJ losing his grip on her. After Emery fell (kinda gently, kinda not) to the matt below, safe, Kenny pushed the guy in question, demanding from him "What the hell are you doing?!" The guy looked like he was about to fight Kenny until he saw the Bucks flanking Kenny, ready to fight-- and backed off. Kenny quickly crouched down, sliding over next to Emery to check on her; he needed to make sure she was okay- all things considered. He glared over his shoulder once at PJ as he retreated, but other than that, Kenny kept his focus on Emery. It surprised everyone when, once Emery rolled under the ropes and made to walk up the ramp, Kenny instead carefully wrapped his arms around her and carried her (bridal style) up the ramp to the back. Even the Bucks seemed vaguely surprised, but almost like they had expected it at the same time. Once backstage, after Emery had been checked over, the Bucks left the two together-- and Kenny began fighting with himself.

Does he tell her? Does he keep it to himself? The age gap between them gives him doubt.

Emery seemed to sense the inner turmoil and asked him about it. Gently, she cupped his face with her hands, making him look at her as she looked for answers. Kenny stared at her with wide eyes, giving a nervous chuckle before swallowing the lump in his throat, manning up and telling her the truth.

Much to his surprise-- the feelings were reciprocated.

#aew #imagine #fanfiction #dark angel of the bullet club #all elite wrestling #oc emery #original female character #Kenny omega #Realizing They loved the other

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peligin-eyed · 4 months

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ask game! :D

🧍‍♂️— What stats would they provide as a companion? Where would you obtain them? 🎩 — What would an Exceptional Story featuring this character be about?

🧍‍♂️ Already answered here!

🎩 I will answer for… all of them

Ambrose (oops this one got long)-

He’s organizing a conceptual art exhibition and he’s heard that you just might be the gentleperson he’s looking for to make sure the reception runs smoothly! As soon as you arrive, you immediately realize this is going to be a pain in the ass.

The “art pieces” are anything from horrifying Prehistoricist mechanical monstrosities to red science sculptures that warp the space around them to irrigo paintings that keep causing everyone to forget why they walked into that room. You have to make sure none of them get damaged by the drunken guests, unravel the laws of reality, or kill anyone.

Two of the artists get into a fistfight, the constables get called in for a noise complaint, an elderly society matron keeps bugging you about the food running low, and you don’t even see Ambrose again until the end of the night when he shows up in like a neon tailcoat and claps you on the back for a job well-done

He pays you in leftover wine, a handful of diamonds, and an erotic poem about you. You get 2CP of Scandal for your involvement in the whole affair.

Emery- you temporarily join their crew to hunt a legendary zee monster! It’s swashbuckling fun.

Liam-

Serious idea: you’re investigating reports of a strange beast seen stalking the streets at night. He’s an expert you try to consult to identify the beast, but he’s surprisingly unhelpful and clearly hiding something. After more investigation you realize that he is, in fact, the beast and have to decide whether or not to keep the secret.

Silly idea- she’s putting a band together featuring rubbery musicians, a tuneful urchin, and a trio of rats. You get to be their promoter.

Charlie- it starts off as a fun evening at the carnival, turns into some behind-the-scenes Great Game hijinks, and somehow ends with you on the run from the constables. At one point, his twin brother Bernie tries to kill you.

Henry- he has done some kind of experiment that went horribly wrong and you have to figure out how/why it happened, and clean up the resulting mess

Robin- help them do some revolutionary shenanigans! Part of the story takes place in Parabola and you get different text depending on which Parabolan power is currently dominant (you get the most favorable options if it’s the cats)

Ask game from here

#ty so much for the asks!#oc: the esoteric aesthete #oc: the fierce-eyed hunter #oc: the cursed balladeer #oc: the blithe sharpshooter #oc: the dolorous doctor #oc: the illusive rascal #ask game

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bookofmirth · 1 year

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Hi!

I am curious to know what you think of Cassian and Nesta's relationship? I know a lot of people (myself included) was disappointed with how he handled things and how their relationship developed.

I would have wished he stood up for her more. I understand that the IC is his family, but it takes nothing to draw boundaries. It was surprising to see how comfortable they were insulting Nesta in his presence. Even more so, to see him agreeing with those insults or believing the worst of her.

Besides how terrible the hiking scene was (and how he shared joy with Rhysand about Nesta suffering through it) my biggest ick would have to be how he handled their mating bond.

In a moment of emotional awareness, Cassian decided to leave Nesta for a week because he knew she was unprepared for the bond between them and wanted her to "come to terms with it".

But later on, when Nesta tries to have a conversation about what she is comfortable with when it comes to mating bonds, he throws a huge temper tantrum. This doesn't make sense because pages before, he knew that Nesta wasn't 100% onboard with being mates. But when she admits to this out loud, he suddenly has a problem with it?

Overall, Nessian really sucked for me in this book and really changed the way I viewed his character. I think he's a jerk.

S/N: The hiking scene also sets a dangerous precedent. Is this how Cassian will choose to handle fights between the sisters now? Every time Nesta upsets Feyre, would he send her on a hike to punish her again. And gloat with Rhys about her suffering. Not that there should be any competition, but it seems Nesta will never have someone defend her the way everyone defends Feyre. Or go to such lengths for her.

I think you sent this before I answered this ask, but some of my general feelings about nessian are there!

They seemed in character to me in acosf, in that they had a lot of push and pull, and they are more antagonistic towards one another than sjm's other couples. There is teasing and challenging each other, and there is being downright mean, and nessian can veer into being mean territory which, for me, means they'll never be my favorite. (I just put that in bold because it's the tl;dr of my feelings on their ship.) I like to explore the tension and how they try to grapple with one another emotionally, but it's more an intellectual exercise for me, than something I like or have fun with.

Re: the hike scene, Cassian didn't send her off on the hike. Rhys ordered her out of Velaris and Azriel packed their bags before Cassian even got to him, so putting this whole situation on Cassian is inaccurate. Rhys saying he was going to kill Nesta was absolutely out of line, but he was acting in fear and anger. I can make you a list of times where Nesta also reacts in fear and anger, and the fandom tries to make excuses for her all the time. It's a messy situation and I don't think anyone comes out of it looking good, is my point. But it involves many more people than just Cassian and Nesta, its root had nothing to do with Cassian, so I don't think that it says anything about their romantic relationship, necessarily.

I've seen other people make the same statement as you, that it seems like Nesta won't have someone ready to throw down for her the way that Feyre does, that we assume Elain will, that Aelin does, etc. That's fair! Perhaps that will come with time? We haven't seen nessian as a couple post-her dealing with her trauma and guilt in acosf. I think it's absolutely possible that she will get that. acosf ended right at the point of them finally coming together and accepting that they were going to be together and be mates, so we haven't yet seen them in a committed, public relationship! Now that I think of it, what fluff did we get in acosf? Nesta's most light-hearted moments were all with Gwyn and Emerie. I think we will get that with her and Cassian later on.

I guess my question with Cassian is - what would people have preferred Cassian do differently, that 1) would be in character, and 2) wouldn't force him to take sides? I absolutely hate the idea that Cassian is supposed to be the bigger person all the time because that's not how relationships works, it's incredibly unfair to him, and it also puts him in a weird dad/therapist position to Nesta, which is also not how relationships work. If we were to switch their genders, I think it'd be easier to see how and why that's such a troubling role to ask one person in a relationship to take.

*side note, I am just putting this post out here as my opinion and I'm not looking to have that changed. I don't care enough to engage in debate about who was meaner to whom. I'm here for character analysis, not character wars. Ultimately, I don't care to engage in a verbal fight about which character was "more wrong" or who was meaner or who was morally superior. (This is not directed at you anon, just at anyone who might get ideas about coming into my inbox to fight. IDC.)

#nesta #cassian #ask #anon #acotar #acosf

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separatist-apologist · 11 months

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Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3

Six months earlier:

“JUMP!” Azriel called, his voice echoing over the screaming wind. Gwyn didn’t think, didn’t let herself do a damn thing other than follow his instructions. Leaping in the air and wishing she had wings, Gwyn cleared the gap in the obstacle course he’d laid out for her, Nesta, and Emerie. She wanted to clear it first, too competitive for her own good. What else was new? Azriel had agreed to help her maneuver it privately outside of her regular training, which meant they were often out late, just as the sun began to settle.

Gwyn had other responsibilities, too. Responsibilities to the females in the library, to Merril, to her friends. And maybe it was nice, for once, to be so exhausted she didn’t have to think about anything but life moment to moment. Here, all Gwyn had to think about was her pumping legs, her swinging dagger, and not getting her ass kicked by a five hundred year old Illyrian warrior.

Gwyn landed hard enough to make her knees scream in protest.

“GET UP!” Azriel roared, his location hidden to her. Bastard, she thought privately. Cassian had warned Nesta, who in turn had warned Gwyn that Azriel was a hard bastard but she hadn’t believed them. Sure, he was demanding but she expected that. They’d worked privately before with daggers and he’d been reasonable enough.

But out here in the mountains, shielded from the other Illyrian warriors and his friends, Azriel was brutal. Miserable, too, not that she’d admit that. She could have walked away after her first failed attempt with him but part of her thought maybe she deserved this.

He ran her harder than anyone else. Even Cassian looked at her—and the other priestesses—with a mixture of pity and admiration. Sometimes Gwyn resented that. Everyone knew by virtue of where she chose to live, made worse by the fact that it had been the High Lords inner circle who’d found her that day. They all knew the very intimate details Gwyn would have preferred stayed locked away.

But if Azriel ever thought of them, he didn’t show it. And he never looked at her with anything but grim determination…and maybe a little disappointment. That was better than pity, though.

Anything was better than pity.

So Gwyn got up, just as Azriel demanded, and made her way toward the spelled dummies that would try and wound her. She bore bruises from the last session, though no gashes. She was ready this time, prepared to take on these enchanted warriors that had no wants other than to see her dead.

They could just get in line, she thought grimly. Reaching for the dagger strapped at her thigh, Gwyn ducked, narrowly avoiding a brutal slice along the cheek. It was muscle memory to jab just between the ribs, forcing her wrist up without twisting so hard she broke it.

“Good,” Azriel murmured from the shadows. High praise from him. “Again.”

Gwyn did, disabling the second, and then the third. It was the fourth that always stopped her. When Cassian had told them of the obstacle course, grinning proudly at his own ingenuity, he told them Rhys had spelled the phantom warriors to seem life-like. And though she knew the High Lord couldn’t possibly know and would have rearranged his enchantment if she’d ever told him so, that last warrior had the same eyes as the Hybernian soldier. The same shade of dark, depthless blue that Gwyn still saw when she closed her eyes. This was where she always failed and where she was going to fail again.

“KILL HIM!” Azriel yelled, clearly frustrated when she slowed. Gwyn couldn’t, though. She hesitated, lowering her weapon and like always, received a punishing blow to the gut.

This is what I deserve, she thought as that sword raised over her. Gwyn closed her eyes, prepared for the death blow that she knew wasn’t coming. Heavy boots landed just in front of her, and with a wave of his gloved hand, the enchanted warrior fell to the ground like a lifeless puppet.

Azriel turned, hazel eyes sharp. “What happened?” he demanded.

Wiping the sweat at her forehead, Gwyn ignored him when he tried to help her to her feet. “I’m not cut out for this,” she said defensively.

Azriel’s wings tightened against his back, blue siphons flashing a warning. He was irritated with her.

“You were making record time and then you stopped. Why?”

“Take me back,” she replied, refusing to look at him.

“Why, Gwyn?”

Resentment bloomed in her gut. Because I should have died that day—not Catrin. Because I’m here but I feel stuck, because my life was stolen and— “Take me back.” He sighed loudly, though whatever he wanted to say remained leashed behind his teeth. Shadow enveloped them both—cool and reassuring, like lapping waves rising to meet the shore. Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut tight, grateful when she heard Azriel’s boots clipping over the roof.

“Get your shit together, Berdara,” Azriel grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, talk to someone else or you’re never going to finish.”

“I’m a Carynthian, aren’t I?” she dared to say, safe beneath a dusky violet sky. “Maybe that’s enough.”

He turned, those eyes flashing like burning coals. “Luck—not skill,” he replied, his voice colder than the mountains they’d just come from. “Luck won’t always save you.”

Gwyn’s nostrils flared. She knew he was right, knew she, Nesta, and Emerie had survived because they’d had each other. Just as she knew there would come a time when they didn’t. And Gwyn knew all too well what it was like to be alone.

To be defenseless.

Azriel swallowed, throat bobbing ever so slightly. There—right there, she saw it. His hesitation, his concern. Something pulled in her chest, some muscle she was unfamiliar with. “Don’t,” she snapped, furious that of all the people she knew, he would dare. “You know it's hard.”

“Not for you,” he replied flatly. “You could get to the ropes if you wanted to.”

The pity was gone in his eyes, though the feeling in her chest was not. Gwyn wanted to rub at her chest to ease whatever was building though she kept her hands tightly coiled at her side. “I’ll get it.”

Azriel cocked his head for a moment, wind blowing against the blue black of his hair. “We’ll see.”

He turned, leaving her standing on the roof alone in favor of unfurling his mighty wings and taking off toward the Sidra. Gwyn didn’t watch him go, though she did wait to scream softly from behind her teeth, a wordless sound that didn’t help anything at all.

Gwyn didn’t know how to forget those eyes, and if she couldn’t forget, what did that mean for her? What did that say about the centuries of life stretched before her? Why couldn’t she kill him? Gwyn had thought of nothing else for so long, and now, confronted with the memory in a visceral way, Gwyn merely stood there waiting to die.

Just like before.

She turned for the door, intending to make her way to the library where she’d read until she was too exhausted to think. Her bones screamed in protest, aching from training that afternoon and obstacle course Azriel had spent the last hour running her through. Up the hilly mountainside, coatless in the cold, as she navigated a treacherous plank walk, moving targets, and steep drops that could kill her if she wasn’t careful.

And then lines and lines of warriors. Gwyn had never managed to get past the first line. Carythian meant nothing if she couldn’t fight. Azriel was right about that. Luck had saved her twice, but it wouldn’t save her again. She knew that like she knew herself.

Yanking open the door, Gwyn took a step, still uneasy from the building pressure in her chest. She took a breath, inhaling that feeling until it settled into something soft. She swallowed it whole, refusing to acknowledge it entirely.

She had other things to think about.

Present day:

“Berdara!” Cassian’s voice echoed over the rooftop, pulling Gwyn from her thoughts. She’d been half asleep in the middle of a cooldown. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

No. “Yes,” she lied, hating the way her cheeks burned from embarrassment. Beside her, Nesta glanced over curiously while Emerie mouthed, you okay?

“C’mon,” Cassian said, hands crossed over his chest. “Finish your leg.”

Yeah, yeah. Gwyn leaned forward, pressing her cheek to her knee to stretch out her aching, sore muscles. She’d been withdrawn lately and everyone had noticed. Across the training ring, she felt Azriel’s curious gaze puncturing her leathers though she didn’t look at him at all. Gone were the days when he gave her private lessons.

She’d walled herself off to him—to everyone, really. Even then, as Cassian dismissed them, Gwyn was quick to her feet in an effort to avoid Nesta and Emerie. That was easy enough when Cassian immediately intercepted his mate with a lopsided grin on his face. She could slip toward the door, quick as a shadow, and began the trek to the library.

“Gwyn!”

That was Emerie, though Gwyn could pretend she didn’t hear it when the door slammed shut. Again. This was easier, she lied, though in truth it took an immense amount of effort to smile at her friends only to dodge them later on.

Why keep going at all? Why not bow out and return to Merril full time? The priestess certainly would have appreciated Gwyn undivided attention and Gwyn could have slowly faded from her friend’s minds.

It was too painful to imagine not having Nesta and Emerie, and worse to admit that despite everything, she was still locked in the past. Trapped in a hell not of her own making, sealed in tight all the same. Nesta and Emerie were doing better, but Gwyn felt worse somehow in ways she couldn’t explain, not even to herself.

It was easier to just avoid it entirely, which meant avoiding her friends, too.

Gwyn made it back to the library in record time, ignoring the same curious looks she always got when she came in wearing the Illyrian leathers the High Lady had gifted her. An entire set, along with knives far nicer than anything Gwyn could have ever imagined.

For saving my sister, she’d written in looping, elegant script. Gwyn had them locked in a chest at the end of her bed, too pretty and priceless to use. Azriel had given her some cast-off, dinged up and battered that Gwyn still favored.

Like me, she thought as she closed herself behind the round, wooden door of her bedchamber. She took just one breath, back pressed to the wall, and then began pulling at the clasps of her clothes. For now, she left them in a heap on the obsidian floor, marching herself toward a standing mirror so she could survey the damage.

She wasn’t eating well again, evidenced by the lines from her ribcage visible just beneath her skin. Bruises dotted her flesh—some fading green while others were a fresh, vibrant violet. She took pleasure at the sight of them against her shoulder blades and spine.

Another breath took her to the blue robes she wore in the library. They fit, hanging just looser than she would have liked, but well enough. Gwyn ignored the evoking stone crumpled on her vanity, taunting her on a beam of buttery sunlight.

She made her way back to the door, thinking only of Merril and her research.

“Em,” she said when she pulled open the door to reveal the Illyrian female on the other side. “Hi.”

“You’re avoiding me. Us,” she added, though Nesta was nowhere to be seen. That was the only positive. If Nesta realized Gwyn was dodging them, she’d follow Gwyn around with that stubborn, single-minded determination of hers.

“I’m not—”

“Don’t,” Emerie replied, tucking her wings in tight. Not like Cassian and Azriel did in an effort to make themselves seem smaller and less threatening, but to help her fit through the rather low door without banging her already broken wings against the frame.

Gwyn stepped back, dress swishing around her legs as she went.

“What’s going on?” Emerie asked, the door clicking softly behind her. “You don’t come out to the mountains anymore. Nesta cleared it yesterday.”

Of course she did. Once, they’d wanted to revive the Valkyrie. Gwyn was supposed to be researching the ancient legion lost to Hybern but found the whole thing too personal, too close to home.

“Merril is running me ragged,” she said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Emerie took a seat on the edge of Gwyn’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m too distracted to focus.”

And Azriel doesn’t like you anymore.

She shook that thought off, well aware it wasn’t true. And even if it was, Cassian still did. He would have taken her to the obstacle course if she’d asked him to, even without Nesta or Emerie. He’d have done so gladly, would have walked her through the entire thing.

“Come with me,” Emerie pleaded, leaning forward to grab Gwyn’s hand. “Please, Gwyn. None of this means anything if you go back to the library.”

“Of course it does,” she replied blithely, slapping what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face.

There was no lying to Emerie, though. She was too shrewd, too used to people looking her in the eye and telling her half-truths. Narrowing her pretty brown eyes, Emerie said, “I’ll send Nesta down.”

And Nesta would pick and pick and pick until Gwyn was nothing but open wounds and bleeding scars. Nesta knew how to get to the heart of someone with only a look, and needed no magic to see straight into Gwyn’s soul. She’d know…and Gwyn couldn’t stand to see any more pity.

“Okay,” she said, unable to hide how tired she was. “Is Cassian taking you?”

“Morrigan,” Emerie said, a curious blush staining her cheeks. “The High Lord has called Azriel and Cassian Velaris tonight and before you ask, no I don’t know why. Nesta didn’t either…you’d know that if you weren’t dodging us.”

“I—”

The look on Emerie’s face stilled the bubbling lie.

“Tonight, just before sunset,” Emerie said, rising from her place on Gwyn’s bed. “And…I know you don’t want to hear this, but you could tell us, you know.

Shame rose in Gwyn’s throat, a familiar sensation as of late. Disappointing her friends was new, though. Pushing them away would be a different sort of hell—a miserable hole she’d never dig herself out of.

“There is nothing to tell,” Gwyn whispered, unable to meet Emerie’s gaze. She heard her friend sigh, heard the whispering of her wings as she walked back to the door.

“I used to say the same thing, once.”

She was gone when Gwyn looked up, the door wide open. In the hall, all Gwyn saw were shadows blotting out the sunlight from the peaked windows at the very end. As she left, Gwyn was careful to avoid them entirely, fingers skimming the wood walls as she went.

Pieced together, step by step, Gwyn didn’t dare allow herself to turn and look behind her. Even when she felt those every present, curious eyes on her.

Keep moving.

AZRIEL:

Drumming his fingers against the wood, Azriel forced himself not to stand though he very much wanted to. All eyes on him, even when he would have preferred to be little more than shadow. That wasn’t possible with his brothers, both of whom were discussing the return of Morrigan. She was with Nesta up at the House of Wind, taking her and Emerie to the obstacle course rather than Cassian.

Azriel wanted to be anywhere but here. Rhys droned on, talking of this problem and that, all cloaking what he truly wished to say.

Are you well, brother?

Cassian, too, kept cutting sly glances his way. Azriel didn’t want to think about Morrigan, let alone speak about her. It was too complicated and Azriel didn’t do complicated. Too messy, too much still unsaid. Having her away had almost been a relief. Azriel could pretend, as he too often did, that there was nothing there at all.

Because there wasn’t. Mor had been making that abundantly clear for years. Centuries, even. And still Azriel couldn’t resist the pull toward her, certain it must be an unsnapped mating bond. He’d told himself a million times that she felt it too and it scared her enough to stay away, but somewhere around the time Feyre arrived, and then Nesta, and finally Elain, Azriel had begun to suspect it wasn’t a bond at all.

And if it wasn’t a bond, it meant there had never been anything between them at all. Only his own hopes, all pinned on one female who didn’t want him.

“Az?”

Rhys’s voice cut through his thoughts. Azriel glanced up at his brother, his friend, heart thudding in his throat, silently waiting for Rhys to repeat what he’d said.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes,” he lied. Rhys clocked him immediately, violet eyes pulling at the corners. Cassian rose from his seat in the study, striding toward the fireplace mantle just behind Azriel. Only his brothers could move around him like that, though it still made Azriel jumpy.

“So you’ll go, then?”

“Of course,” he replied evenly. That was his job—spying, gathering information, torturing when he needed to, stealing when he didn’t.

“If Mor can’t charm them, we’ll let Azriel do things his way,” Rhys said with a sharp toothed grin. “Though, I would like to have someone at court, if I could. Nesta, perhaps—”

“Not Nes,” Cassian interjected, his voice tight. “She’s training new priestesses.”

And Cassian couldn’t stand the thought of his new mate running off to Montessere with Azriel for the Cauldron knew how long. A pang of longing slammed against his ribs, burning colder than any hatred he’d ever felt. Azriel wanted what Cassian and Rhys had and was beginning to suspect he didn’t because he was wholly unworthy. The mother had looked around, taken stock of him, and decided he was the kind of creature that deserved to be alone.

“What about Elain?” Cassian continued, unaware of how stiff both Rhys and Azriel got. Azriel’s eyes flicked toward Rhys, hands braced against his neatly organized desk. Behind him, Feyre watched them all with imperious blue eyes, warning them not to give Rhys too much grief.

“No,” Azriel said, careful to keep his voice measured. Better to not let Cassian realize that was still a sore spot between he and Rhys. “She’s too…”

Rhys watched him, drumming his fingers along the desk just as Azriel had been doing only moments before. Azriel sighed. “She’s a distraction.”

That wasn’t a lie, at least. Elain wasn’t the spying type and was likely to shrink away when she realized what it would take to extract the information Rhys wanted. There was wisdom in installing someone at court, though—it gave him access to the palace itself, allowed him to move through the halls freely without skulking when everyone was asleep, and would legitimize him. Otherwise he’d be in trees and up in the clouds, constantly slipping about, hiding and stuffing himself into too-small nooks and crannies.

“Gwyn, then,” Cassian interrupted, his voice assured. Azriel twisted on the cream sofa, brows furrowed. Gwyn was all but checked out at training and last he’d heard, refusing to go back to the obstacle course. He gave her another month before she returned to the library full time, abandoning her quest to embody her Carynthian title.

She certainly had stopped seeking him out for help, and Azriel knew better than to offer it. Whatever was going on with her was none of his business which she’d made abundantly clear the last time they’d spoken.

“The priestess?” Rhys questioned, straightening his spine.

“She’s stealthy,” Cassian began, eyes bright. “A good fighter and unassuming. Sending Az to protect a priestess wouldn’t be unusual, either.”

“Mor was just there,” Rhys reminded them, though it was clear he was considering this absurd plan. “They’ll know we’ve changed tactics.”

“Mor was there as emissary. They said they wanted an exchange of knowledge. Who better to send than a priestess working in the High Lord’s library? She can say it’s a show of good faith, and since she’s not trained as a courtier, she’ll come off earnest rather than practiced like Nesta or Elain would.”

Rhys looked to Azriel, who shook his head. “She’s too unpracticed and I don’t have time to babysit her.”

Cassian scoffed, walking away from the crackling fire toward the set of chairs on the opposite end of the coffee table. “Then call Lucien.”

Azriel’s lip curled over his teeth. Looking up at Rhys, he waited for the High Lord to tell Cassian that was an awful plan. Lucien was their emissary to the humans and if anyone was a court trained bastard, it was Vanserra.

“Not everything needs to be a suicide mission, Az,” Rhys began, sensing Azriel’s rising temper. “And I want someone at court. So you can take the priestess or I suppose we could call Vanserra and send him with you.”

“Are those my only options?” Azriel demanded, flaring his nostrils as he attempted to leash his anger.

Rhys ran his tongue over his teeth. “For now.”

Fuck.

“Gwyn, then,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. She was tolerable, at least. Better than tolerable when she wanted to be and more importantly, unrelated to a Vanserra. “If you don’t trust me to do this on my own.”

“Of course I do,” Rhys replied evenly, refusing to take the bait. “The situation is delicate—if we’re caught, they’ll turn their backs to us completely. I want to know everything. If Beron has made them promises, if they’re thinking of aligning with Koschei…if they even know of Koschei.”

“It’ll be good for her,” Cassian added softly, letting his concern show over his features. “All Nesta talks about is how withdrawn Gwyn has become.”

“Assuming she even agrees,” Azriel replied indifferently. Rhys’s plan hinged on one of his traumatized priestesses agreeing to fly across the continent with a male she just barely trusted. Gwyn would say no, Azriel would return to Rhys and—

“If she doesn’t agree, Vanserra will go,” Rhys interrupted, reading Azriel’s thoughts plainly. “And the two of you will have to work together.”

“We’ll kill each other,” Azriel replied, rising to his feet. “If I don’t kill him first.”

“Why do you hate him?” Cassian asked.

Azriel didn’t dare reveal the real reason. Didn’t dare admit he hated Lucien not because he was part of Beron’s brood, or for what he’d allowed to happen to Feyre or even how he’d supported Tamlin all those years—but because a Vanserra was somehow worthier than Azriel. Lucien had a mate.

Lucien.

And if Vanserra’s could be granted mates but not Azriel, it meant everything his father had ever said about him was true. Everything Rhys’s father had believed about him—true.

And every private insecurity he held was true, too.

Rhys knew it. Without peering into his mind, Rhys somehow still knew. And Azriel resented his friend for knowing this thing, even if Rhys had never once used it against him, or even mentioned it at all.

“What reason do I need to hate a Vanserra?” Azriel replied, turning his back on them both. Cassian sucked in a breath while Rhys chuckled—the sentiment was well-echoed. Lucien was allowed because Feyre loved him and Elain hadn’t broken their bond. He was useful, a tool and little else and Azriel was looking forward to the day Elain did break the bond, if only to see him suffer as Azriel did.

“You’ll have this conversation with Gwyn?” he asked, halting at the door. It would be better coming from Rhys or Cassian than Azriel, who didn’t know how to approach her without making it seem like he was trying to kidnap her.

“I will,” Rhys murmured, his eyes flickering with what looked like pity. Gwyn would hate that. Azriel hated it on her behalf, too. He nearly told his friend to wipe that look off his face, to keep the guilt from sounding in his voice. Rhys would figure it out, though, and Azriel truly didn’t have the capacity for that conversation.

Not when Elain Archeron breezed down the hall in a loose, lilac dress. Scenting of lavender and honey and something that made his insides slick with shame—the mating bond, the same he could scent whenever Nesta or Feyre were around.

Not that it mattered. Elain refused to acknowledge him at all, pathetically petty even if it was deserved. He disliked her cold shoulder, how she kept her eyes firmly ahead, arms filled with pretty pink hydrangeas she’d arrange for Feyre’s dining table.

He stood there, ignoring Cassian and Rhys’s chatter behind him, waiting for her to pass. Even though she refused to look, he still inclined his head as a show of respect. Whatever might have happened between them had always been doomed from the start. Azriel had known it and hadn’t cared—he knew he was just as much a distraction to her and she was to him.

Pink bloomed over her cheeks, though whether that was embarrassment or shame, Azriel didn’t know. Didn’t care to figure out, either. He waited until she vanished around a corner, a door slamming just a little too loudly, before he made his way behind her.

Azriel slipped into the darkness, careful not to make a sound. He could still hear Cassian and Rhys talking softly, their voices a low hum in the back of his skull. In front of him, the city was a symphony of sound, illuminated by the twinkling stars overhead and floating fae lights. Velaris was alive, waking with the setting sun but Azriel was still a phantom, hidden in the dark.

Just as he’d always been.

Flaring his wings, he made his way toward the House of Wind where he’d try–and fail—to sleep. Maybe he’d run the obstacle course himself, venting his frustrations until he was too exhausted to stand. Azriel landed on the roof just as the thought occurred to him that he might drink himself into oblivion. It wasn’t his favorite, though it got the job done.

Maybe vent his frustrations into a willing, warm body. He twisted, looking back at the dotted lights of Velaris when— “Az?” Fuck fuck fuck.

Azriel turned, heart racing at the sight of Morrigan. He hadn’t spotted her—had been too distracted. He could scent sweat, and the smells of Nesta and Gwyn still lingering in the air. Mor must have just brought them back.

He dipped his chin, unsure what to say. That had sent Elain scurrying away—perhaps Mor would leave, too. She certainly seemed like she wanted to, brown eyes apprehensive as she watched him. She wore a nice pair of dark pants, her white shirt tucked in neatly, and though there was a blade strapped against her back and her blonde hair was half falling from a braid, she was still stunning.

And not his. Never his.

“Do you live up here now?” she asked when the silence stretched thinly between them.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Silence finally got to you, huh?” she teased, offering him a half smile. Azriel couldn’t return it because that would make him too hopeful. He shrugged, turning back to Velaris though he knew now he couldn’t leave. Not until she did, at any rate. And then…and then.

She took a cautious step toward him. “Az, I—”

“You don’t—” he swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as he worked to compose himself. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She came closer, still. “Will you take me back?” she asked him and Azriel, stupid and foolish, couldn’t tell her no. Mor came within touching distance for the first time in years, the sweet, soft scent of her washing over him.

He kept himself rigid as she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing himself to wrap one arm around her waist before he kicked off into the sky. There was nothing but cool air here, and the warmth of Mor’s body pressed against his own.

“We were friends, once,” she murmured as Azriel soared overhead, taking a roundabout way so she could say whatever it was she so clearly needed to say. “What happened to us?”

I’m in love with you and I can’t let it go. You don’t love me and you never will.

He didn’t respond, choosing to just hold her for what he knew would be the last time. When he set her back to the ground, it would all be over and Azriel would have to move on somehow. To continue would be a betrayal of their family, would destroy them all. In a way, Azriel was suddenly grateful for some space to untangle his messy emotions.

“Is there someone else?” he finally forced himself to say. To just admit that he wanted her, even if it went against every instinct in his body.

“Yes,” she replied, fingers brushing beneath his chin so he had to look at her. “And if I ever could have loved a male, it would have been you.”

Azriel blinked. “What…?” She’d had male lovers before—many, by his recollection. Helion, Cassian, several Summer courtiers, that male from Dawn…

Mor swallowed. “You know how my father is,” she forced herself to say, eyes jewel bright. “I think, even now, I’m scared to disappoint him. To admit what I really want. Who I want. And even though Rhys would shield me, that fear is potent and pretending is easier, even if it costs me you. I want you to be happy, Az. And I could never make you happy, just like you couldn’t make me happy. You like females…and so do I.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the air leaving him in a rush. Five centuries of questions were suddenly answered. Mor’s lips ghosted over his jaw, feather soft and sweet, just like he’d always imagined. It didn’t lessen the pain, nor did it erase the love he felt for her. But it did explain her avoidance, her caution, her unwillingness to get close.

“You ah…” Fuck, he didn’t know what to say. “You never needed to hide that from me. From us,” he added hastily.

Mor turned to look out at the city they were fast approaching. “We all have our secrets. Right, Az?”

He began to descend, the muscles in his back flexing from the effort to keep himself slow. He wanted to drag this moment out, to stretch the intimacy between them for another moment.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised her, boots touching the cobblestone streets before her own did. Mor slipped from his grip, shaking out her hands nervously until he reached for her face. She didn’t shy away this time, nor did she flinch as she’d done so often in the past. There was a new understanding between them, a different sort of thread. It wasn’t, he supposed, that he was unworthy of her.

Just that she couldn’t love him the way he’d loved her. The thought eased the ache in chest, though only marginally. She’d never be his mate. He could move on if he wanted. Find someone else.

If he wanted.

Brushing his thumb over her cheek, Azriel lowered his face like he’d so often dreamed of, and gave her the same soft kiss against her cheek. “You deserve to be happy,” he whispered so softly only she could hear. “I want that for you.”

Her eyes seemed to burn like the stars above them. Lovely, lively Mor. His Mor, though not how he’d imagined. But his friend, all the same—and the only person she’d entrusted with this secret.

“Thank you, Az. You deserve that, too. I know you’re going to find it.”

He forced a strained smile, dipping his head in agreement. She stepped out of his embrace, turning for the city.

“Join me at Rita’s?” she asked hopefully.

Azriel didn’t look behind him. He still had one night of freedom. He could still drink himself into oblivion.

“Let’s go.”

#gwynriel #i just miss writing a canon compliant fic i think #but ive done a million elucien ones like what is left to say?#time to change tactics #anyway if you see a typo no you dont #MB writing long fics god who IS she?#a dumb bitch thats who

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nikethestatue · 3 months

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You know who reminds me of Bryce? Gwyn.

Same inability to keep secrets. Same over-confidence. Same disregard for other people's safety. Same unhealthy interest in Truth Teller.

"Okay, Gwyn, you absolutely cannot tell anyone about the Trove."

"Oh yeah, absolutely! My lips are sealed!!"

The next day.

"So I told Merrill about the Trove."

"Ok-ay. Did she at least tell you anything useful about it?"

"Nah."

"Gwyn, we can't climb the mountain! You are injured. We are exhausted!"

"No we MUST climb it!"

"But why?"

"Because we must! We came this far."

"You can barely walk. You are putting us in danger."

"Let's climb it!"

Emerie, hauling unconscious Gwyn up the mountain.

Gwyn: 'Woohoo! We climbed the mountain!"

"We are Carynthians."

Gwyn: "Ew. I don't want to be a Carynthian!"

Both, Bryce and Gwyn 'OMG, I am doing research! As in researching things. Which need to be researched. By a researcher."

"Hey Bryce, don't touch the glass coffin!"

"Oh, no, I am definitely gonna touch the glass coffin with a sleeping weirdo inside."

"No, this is pretty dangerous, don't do it!"

Nesta, digging deep into her vocabulary 'It's a KILL SWITCH for Prythian!!!"

Bryce, needlessly: "Azriel you are an alphahole! and a shithead!" (because I talk like I am 11!)

Azriel: "Wut?"

Bryce: "I dunno! I have an incurable disease which makes me call random people 'shitheads' and every man 'alphahole'."

"Don't touch the coffin, bitch!"

"Hehe. I touched the coffin! Oops. I woke up an Asteri. Who is a kill switch for Prythian!"

Overall, both are similarly insufferable.

The funny thing, everyone who is putting them with Azriel, clearly don't get his character. There are actual waves of annoyance and displeasure pulsing off him during just about every interaction that he has with Bryce. Given the chance, he WOULD actually murder her. And not in an 'enemies to lovers' kind of a way. In a 'you annoy the living crap out of me and if you don't shut up in 3 seconds I will slash your throat' kind of a way.

Azriel: I need a fucking raise!!!! And where is Elain??? I need some peace and quiet too.

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awesomelyanxiouspanda · 9 months

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A Fiercely Bleeding Heart (Lucifer/OFC): Chapter 9

Story summary: Emery (Our lovely OFC) owns a thriving coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Monroe City, Mo. She’s well known for her unique coffee drinks and her “coffee charity”. What happens when a woman with too much heart- and not nearly enough common sense- comes across the fallen archangel in his mostly human state? Will Lucifer behave, or will he bite the hand that (quite literally) feeds him?

Warnings/Tags: Canon S.13 E.21 death and resurrections.

Loosely based around S.13 E. 13! Plus size OC, OC is gullible and a big softie, Lucifer in his nearly human form, Soft Lucifer, Dean and Sam cosplaying FBI agents again, Canon typical violence, Non-Canon compliant story line, Soulmate AU-ish?, canon typical cursing, NOT a slow burn, not beta’d we die like our king Crowley, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected smut, commitments are made, soulmate bonds are formed, praise kink, Luci can dirty talk with the best of them (we all know his sass would be sinful in bed), little bit of drama, some self-esteem issues, possessive Lucifer, breeding kink, dom/sub themes, pet names (such as princess, good girl, and little one), Castiel awkwardly and adorably cosplaying an FBI agent, Castiel is also scary af, reader gets a backbone and attempts the implausible, reader gets to see the darker side of Lucifer up close, canon-death, reader is definitely morally grey in areas.

A/N: Heeeyyy, another filler chapter! The good news is we’re super close to meeting Jack! As a mother in real life, I can’t wait to create a bond between Emery and Jack as I fix the way they fucked over Lucifer in this season.

“Somebody bet on the grey! One more time!”

That voice... I knew it! I knew I had heard him. Still uncertain of who would be around, not wanting to attempt a tussle with anyone- much less an angel, I crept carefully to the doorway and peeked around. The sight that awaited me made my heart twist. Lucifer, bound on his knees, held magically above a bowl with some kind of glowing essence flowing from his throat. What the hell were they doing to him?!

I looked around the room for any other occupants to find one lonely woman at the table. A beautiful woman with sharp features and fiery hair. In another world, if she weren’t an obvious part of Lucifer’s capture, I might have found her to be quite stunning.

“Hey, come on, Red, I’m just trying to have a good time with you… Like last time.”

Fuck, that struck a bitter chord of jealousy in my heart. Taking a deep breath, I swallowed back the green-eyed monster and tried to think of a way to interfere without getting myself or Lucifer killed. Who knew what kind of powers that woman had. She could be an angel, a demon, or worse for all I knew.

“You remember that? When I surprised you at your hotel room?”

This conversation was definitely not meant for me and my heart recognized that with a painful throb. While I couldn’t hold anything he did before we were together against him, it still hurt to hear. The redhead didn’t appear any happier to hear it, her face tightening and motions growing tense. There definitely wasn’t a happy ending there.

“Oh, I mean, I even wanted you to put up a fight. I wanted a little bit of a tussle, but… you froze. You choked. So I choked ya.”

For a moment, there was a sensation tight in my gut that felt like I was going to vomit, and it took all my strength not to let it out.

“What was that like? Burning to death?”

Oh… OH. Realization struck hard and fast. This wasn’t a lover’s quarrel. This was something worse. I was seeing something I really didn’t want to see.

“You know, I still can’t get that smell out of my nose. That… ashy reek of burnt-up ginger.”

His laughter echoed across the room and I could feel my hands begin to tremble. While I trusted him to never turn that sadistic streak upon me, it was terrifying to hear. Logically, I knew what he had done but to hear it from him himself so graphically, to see the horror in that woman’s eyes…

“Shut your mouth!”

She darted across the room, snarled her fingers tight in his hair, and yanked his head back as she leaned in close.

It was almost too low to hear, but I managed to make out her words just barely as I crept closer.

“You want to get inside MY head, twist the knife? Two can play that game. Do you know what your grace is making possible right now? The heartfelt family reunion of Sam, Dean, Cas, Mary, and your very own son, Jack. That’s right. Your wee boy is right there. He’ll be glad to see his three fathers. Because as for as he’s concerned, they are his father and you… you are nothing to him, or me, or anyone now.”

Her voice trailed off but I could see the damage her words had done. Lucifer was trembling and the look in his eyes was enough to make my heart skip a beat. As I watched his internal battle, I could barely sort through my own thoughts. Lucifer had a son. Why hadn’t he told me that? Hurt mixed with the feeling of helplessness as I watched her torment him, and it finally became all too much.

“Why don’t you just shut up?!”

The words came out before I could think them through, both heads snapping my way with shock written on their faces. Slowly, a sadistic smile crossed Lucifer’s mug, meanwhile, disbelief and disgust showed on the woman’s.

“Princess!”

“You. What do you think you’re doing out here?!” she bit out.

“You think I’d just… sit there, after you all finally left me alone?” I shot back, putting on a much braver face than I felt, “Must be stupider than you look.”

“Aww, satan’s little whore has bite to her,” she said with mock adoration, “How cute.”

My eyes darted behind her as shocks of lightning begin to branch off of Lucifer. Before she could react, he suddenly snapped his bonds and levitated into the air, his hand instantly encircling her throat tight. It was like something out of a superhero movie and I was unable to do more than watch in awe.

“Aw, Red, you shouldn’t have made me mad,” he taunted, “Step into my office.”

Faster than my eyes could keep up with, they were across the room, and he slammed her into the wall with a shuddering thud. A peak of lust lit in my belly at the raw show of power before disgust shamed it away. I must have been more fucked up than I realized if I was even thinking about that at a time like this. Lucifer’s growled words quickly drew me out of my inner turmoil.

“You know, you and Gabe, you kicked me when I was down. I didn’t have any fight. I didn’t have anything to live for. But now, now,” he paused, eyes coming to catch mine, “You’ve given me something to fight for again, the two most important things to fight for; My boy, and my queen. So, for that, I’m going to be quick.”

“Defendatur!”

With a wild cry and a hand thrust out his way, the woman sent Lucifer flying back, right into the glowing slit in the air. I could only watch in horror as it immediately sucked him in, leaving not a trace of him in sight.

“What- Wh- Where did he go?!”

The redhead shot a glare my way, chest heaving and face red, before biting out, “Why don’t you go and find out, you sick little trollop?”

I didn’t give myself a chance to second-guess my actions. Snagging one of the hunting knives off the big table, I sent her a scathing glare before readying myself to jump. Surely it’d just take me in like it had him, right? With a deep breath, I lunged forward, eyes shut tight and arms braced around myself for impact. Hopefully, this wouldn’t kill me. But I’d never be able to forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.

A panicked screech fled my lips as I plummeted hard into the unforgiving ground seconds later. I barely managed to cover my face as I went tumbling down what seemed to be a steep decline for way too long, grimacing through groans and whimpers as the blade in my hand scratched across my flesh. When I finally came to a stop, it was from a pair of hands yanking me still. For a long moment, breathing through the fear and pain was all I could manage until a voice spoke.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

My eyes popped open and I hastily threw myself upright in search of Lucifer, a little noise of relief sounding when I found him directly behind me.

“Lucifer!”

He let out a little oomph as I tackled him to the ground and wrapped him in a tight bear hug, tucking my face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder with a shuddering sigh. Arms wrapped around my frame and pulled me in tight as my first sniffle came forth.

“Hey, princess.”

“I missed you so much,” I whispered, voice tight with tears, “I tried to call for you but that fucking seraphim put some crazy warding on my ribs! I- I thought I’d-”

He released his hold on me only for his hands to resurface on either side of my face, managing to pull me away just enough for our eyes to meet. I could barely make out his features until I blinked away the tears flooding my gaze. I watched intently as his lips parted as if to speak, before closing again. This happened a few times before he finally jerked me into a tense kiss.

“I thought I’d fucking lost you,” he breathed against my lips.

The raw pain in his voice brought another round of tears down my cheeks. I wasn’t given the chance to respond before his mouth was on mine once more. My lips parted eagerly as his tongue pressed for entrance and the lingering taste of whiskey overwhelmed my senses before the familiar sensation of contentment settled in my breast.

When I finally drew away for a breath, he leaned me back just enough to sit up and regain his hold around my waist, his head resting over my heart.

“I spent so long looking for you,” he murmured, “Every time it felt like I was close, you’d suddenly disappear again. Even with the soulmate bond, it was like you didn’t exist. Now I know why.”

I rested my cheek atop his head as my fingers wove into his blonde hair, soothing the raging emotions within by toying with the strands. Time seemed to stand still around us as I soaked in his touch. I was unsure of how long we sat like that but I honestly would have done it for the rest of my existence if given the chance. Only the reminder of why he’d come through was enough to urge me into action.

“You have a son?” I asked softly.

Lucifer tensed slightly before relaxing with a little laugh.

“Yeah, I- uh- thought Jack was gone too. Those damn Winchesters have been hiding him from me. I was told time and time again that he was gone and I couldn’t NOT believe it. Where you were like a ghost to my sense, he was completely absent.”

I swallowed hard and nodded as he pulled back. There was something bright in his enchanting blue irises as they ran over my face and it shone through the smile he gave just the same.

“But now I know. He’s here! I can’t feel him, but I can track those flannel-wearing idiots directly to him, and then- then, we’re getting the hell outta dodge!”

My lips quirked up fondly as he talked about the trips he was going to take the kid on, about family dinners, about the future in general. It warmed my heart in ways I’d never expected.

“But the first step is finding him.”

“I’m coming with,” I replied firmly.

Something dark flashed through his eyes and, for a moment, I was worried I had made him mad, but then that light came back.

“I don’t like the thought of you being here. This place is… well, let’s just say it’s worse than our world could ever be. I can’t just send you back to Red, though,” he muttered, almost as if to himself before his hand captured my jaw startlingly hard, “You HAVE to stay at my side, do you understand that, princess? No wandering off. No trusting ANYBODY except me. I can only protect you if you are within my reach.”

“Of course,” I assured him.

My cheeks flamed hot under the domineering grip overwhelming my senses as his eyes searched mine intently.

“Good girl.”

I nearly melted on the spot, my eyelashes fluttering shut in hopes of containing my reactions, and I managed a weak smile in response.

“I can’t wait for you to meet him. I just know he’s going to love you as much as I do,” he breathed against my lips before gifting me a searing kiss and releasing my face, “Come on then, doll. We’re burning light.”

…

In some roundabout ridiculous way, I couldn’t help but enjoy the situation we were in. Sure, this apocalypse world sucked, but I was allowed to traverse it with the love of my life, hand in hand as we searched for his kid. Him ripping apart rogue angels aside… Were this place more similar to our realm, I’d find the trek actually enjoyable. Well, that and if I were in better shape. I was silently cursing the ache in my legs and every clumsy footstep that set us back precious seconds. Thankfully, Lucifer made no ill comment about my missteps and simply pulled me closer to match his more stable footing. Who knew the devil could have such patience.

As I daydreamed about future, more pleasant, walks with Lucifer and Jack, I was suddenly pulled to a stop.

“We’re close,” he muttered, eyebrows pinching together in obvious thought, “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

My answer came in the form of Lucifer suddenly marching forward into the dark tunnel placed strategically on the side of the mountain. Fear lit hot under my skin as the darkness enveloped us and I couldn’t help but wrap myself around his arm in search of safety. There were things in the darkness around us. I could hear them, feel them, around us. What they were, I had no clue, but part of my brain was thankful for the shadows concealing them.

“Lu-Lucifer, are-”

“Don’t worry, they can’t touch us,” he responded simply.

His fingers squeezed mine soothingly as he dutifully led us down the narrow twists and turns until we came to a dimly lit cove. A curse left his lips when he finally came to a stop.

“Well, this is problematic, but… This actually might work out in our favor.”

It took my eyes a few moments to adjust but, when they did, I almost wished they hadn’t. A weak gasp left my lips as my brain finally processed the gruesome sight of Sam’s lifeless body framed almost strategically in the shafts of light. Next came the heavy scent of copper filling the air.

While I didn’t like what Sam had done, that was far from wanting him dead. To see someone I’d known personally, torn apart like some kind of chew toy…

Before I realized what was happening, my knees collapsed beneath me and my face nearly met the ground as a terrible bought of nausea wracked through my being. Thankfully, nothing really came up, having not eaten anything since the night before, but the taste of acid was heavy on my tongue with each wretch.

“Ah, shit, sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think about it,” Lucifer sighed heavily.

Tears dripped down my cheeks and I hastily wiped my mouth with the back of my arm, hoping to rid myself of any undesirable fluids, as he crouched next to me. A warm hand rested against my back and a welcomed sensation of complete peace followed, filling each and every nerve in my body until I no longer felt like passing out.

“Just keep your eyes down for a second,” he instructed gently, “He’ll be fine in a minute.”

Disbelief almost brought my gaze up to him but I quickly fought the urge and followed his instructions closely, not wanting to chance another round of nausea. I kept my lids clenched tight as I listened to his footsteps cross the dirt and rock until it was silent once more. I could hear him muttering something under his breath before he made his way back over.

“You’re good to get up now.”

Another round of gratefulness blossomed through my chest as I found his hands reaching down for me and I accepted his help with a quiet ‘thank you’. Before he could even respond, there was a sharp rattling gasp through the silence.

“Wh-”

A large hand covered my mouth instantly and he leaned into my ear, shushing me so quietly I could barely hear.

“Give it a moment.”

His voice reverberated through my mind before going silent once more. Though he kept my lips covered, he finally allowed me to turn just enough to see Sam sitting upright, inhaling panicked breaths and searching for something in the darkness around us. It wasn’t until Sam got to his feet that Lucifer finally relinquished his hold, sliding slowly towards Sam through the shadows until he was behind him, a flashlight silhouetting his face almost comically.

“Boo! Hey Sammy!”

“No,” Sam hissed darkly, taking a step back from the other man.

“Yeah, I mean, you could do the whole pinch yourself, rub your eyes thing, or you could put on your big boy pants and just, you know, cut right to the realization that yup, it’s me.”

I watched on in silence, transfixed by the show before me, too afraid to interrupt the duo in what was obviously a tense moment.

“Y-You-You- You brought me back?”

“I did, you’re welcome.”

Sam watched as Lucifer prowled through the area, stopping below the broken boards and right in the light.

“Why?” Sam demanded.

“Oh well, I’m getting to that.”

Realization shot through Sam’s features as he looked back before addressing Lucifer once more.

“The rift? The rift! Rowena!”

“Oh, she’s okay. I mean I was going to kill her, but, she blasted me here before I had that chance to. It’s great, self-defense, but uh I was coming here anyway.”

“But we drained you!”

“So… how did I have the juice to pull off my little Lazarus trick? That’s a long story but I was basically tracking you here and then I came across a handful of Michael’s angels and I uh- I ate them. I guess it’s not really that long of a story, is it?”

The disgust that Sam showed was palpable. Not that I could blame him. It had been hard to watch even despite knowing it was done out of self-preservation, a literal them or us situation.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? I want what everyone wants. I want a personal apology from Pop. I want rerun-free year-round episodes of drag-race.”

“Yeah, got it okay, right. We’re done here.”

Sam grabbed up his bag, noticeably keeping a steady on Lucifer as he moved.

“Are you going? Here. It’s dark out there.”

He tried to hand the flashlight over to Sam but the other simply clicked on his own, tossing a glare in the archangel's direction. As he turned away, there was a sudden deafening roar as his light passed over a massive group of… somethings.

A terrified screech escaped my lips before I could stop it and Sam jumped back in turn, eyes landed on me in surprise.

“Emery? What the- You brought her here?!” Sam snapped.

The tension around the two snapped even tighter as Lucifer slid over and pulled me under his arm.

“It-”

“I didn’t really give him a choice,” I cut in quietly, hand resting on Lucifer’s abdomen to hopefully keep him calm, “I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay there with that woman and I wanted to help.”

Sam’s lips drew into a tight line, eyebrows furrowing and arching in thought before he tossed another look back at the mass of writhing bodies.

“Oh, yeah they’re sorta- sorta all over there and I’m holding them back.”

Subconsciously, my nails tightened into his t-shirt as I pressed fully against him for comfort.

“They’re just waiting for a little snap of the fingers,” Lucifer added rather smugly, fingers lifting symbolically, “But I didn’t want ‘em floodin’ in here and eatin’ you again. Not until after we finished our convo.”

Sam’s face read as clearly as day, frustration and anger marring his features as he swung back around to face us.

“What do you want?!”

My heart leaped into my throat as Lucifer’s hand tightened across my hip and his once lax form went rigid.

“I want what you already have- A relationship with my son.”

Disbelief fled across the bigger man’s face as a scoff filled the air.

“Okay, there was a time when I would just, you know, grab him, but… I’ve grown.”

“Yeah sure you have,” Sam snapped.

“I have Samuel.”

Eyes widening in shock, I flinched the tiniest bit as the giant of a man turned his narrowed gaze onto me.

“How can you stand there and trust him when you see what he’s doing?” Sam bit out tersely, “You’re really buying into this ‘good father’ schtick? Come on, Emery, open your eyes!”

“Talk to her like that one more time and it won’t be the vampires you have to worry about,” Lucifer snarled darkly, “Now, I want my son, and you’re going to help me.”

“How?”

“Well, I don’t feel like he’ll just accept me unless I come bearing gifts. Yep. Boop! You,” Lucifer sang lightly, poking the bigger man in the chest, “Listen, I’m not asking you to like it- or to like me! All I’m asking is that you acknowledge the truth; that I was the one who brought you back to life, that I was the one who lifted you from the darkness into the light. Okay?”

There was a heavy silence that stretched between the two before Lucifer sighed loudly.

“Apocolypse world, Michael’s armies? You really think you and your family can handle that stuff alone? You need me.”

A war of emotions danced through the brunette’s face before it settled plainly on defeat.

“And what if I say no?

“Alright, let me just make this really, really, really easy- easy enough for even you to understand Sammy. I’m getting to Jack, one way or the other. The only question is- You coming with…” he lifted his fingers into a snap motion as a smirk danced across his lips, “Or that? Your move, champ.”

#supernatural lucifer #Supernatural fanfic #lucifer/ofc

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adelindschade · 2 years

Text

A Thousand Regrets (A Thousand Cuts, Part 19)

Cassian is dealt a bad hand and uncertain future as Rhys’ pact complicates everything. Nesta begins to confront her estranged relationship with Feyre. Spicy moment at end (but *not* NSFW)

“What’s that?”

“Correspondence,” Nesta answered, “from Feyre… and Elain.”

One was opened. The other remained discarded. He had a guess which one was which. Nesta was comfortable under the covers as the storm dragged out. It was so fierce that almost everyone in the region agreed to stay in. Had Emerie not be explicitly clear she could manage the day without Nesta, assuring her she shouldn’t wear herself thin, as usually was the case if she had to winnow the distance, he was sure Nesta would’ve gone to work regardless. Restlessness didn’t suit her – so she kept busy.

You need to relax, he insisted. He had shuttled her away to the bedroom where he tucked her in and propped a pillow behind her back. She’d work herself ragged if she could. Not on his watch.

Even he was calling it a snow day. Devlon would make orders clear today was a day of rest for the recruits, as few should venture out of their shelters to endure such brutal weather. He could only hope the rest of the residents had ample protection, recalling the feeble tent he had relied on.

If he and Nesta were to spend a full day together cooped up in the cabin, he had hoped it would be a lazy one. That didn’t seem to be the case, not for either of them. He was assessing maps and strategies and she was making the most of her new borrowed library Helion had sent. Not a single, cliché romance plot touched. It was all work – no play. They were two peas in a pod.

“Anything interesting?” he probed, joining her on the bed as he sat on the side.

It dipped and creaked. He made a mental note perhaps it was time to replace the weathered frame. The last thing he wanted to hear was the groan of the wood, especially if Nesta and he were to ever advance their intimacy much more rigorously. He was simply thinking ahead.

He asked that question hours before, noting all the tabs and notes she scribbled on various pages on a new journal. Those books were now stacked to half his height, neatly in corner as to prevent further scuff or wear. Helion would appreciate her care. With that kind of attention, she’d be given direct access anytime she pleased. His library would become her own personal library.

Now, a new curiosity sparked as he fixated on Feyre’s penmanship in Nesta’s hands.

“She wants to see me. Nothing new,” Nesta grumbled. “Don’t get me confused. I love her but you can love someone and not like them, you know? Not all the time but there are moments where you want to strangle them, but then kill for them if anyone laid a hand on them.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Cassian empathized. “Why do you think Az and Rhys and I take it to the ring now and then? I love those idiots – but they are idiots sometimes. It’s okay to want to pummel them but if anyone were to threaten them….” He shook his head and imagination took over.

“We spent most of our lives butting heads,” Nesta said. He didn’t miss the sorrow laced between her words as she mulled over her regrets. “It got worse when we were crammed in that cabin. We kept getting in each other’s way and we could be cruel about because we’d push buttons, intentionally or not. We never had an escape, so we’d stew and then we boil, and next thing I know, we’re fighting over the stupidest things simply because we couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t always like that. When she was born, she looked like a little doll, and I wouldn’t let her go. I wasn’t her mom but for a second, I thought I could be because she was so small, and precious, I was her big sister. I loved her. I promised nothing would ever happen to her. I still feel that way,” she said earnestly, “but I also feel exasperated because she’s not the fragile baby I swaddled. She’s Feyre – and she’s headstrong – and no one can tell her anything.”

He smiled. It sounded too eerily like another Archeron sister her knew. They both could dig in their heels at times. His hand wove into her own, and she did not pull away. She hadn’t for a while. It was pleasant to have his efforts reciprocated. All he desired was to show he supported Nesta, and she wasn’t rejecting it, or throwing it back in his face.

“I can love both versions of her but admittedly, one is easier to deal with than the other,” she tried to muster a laugh. It fell short. “It’s easier to walk away for a moment when I can because I don’t want to resort to that same, bitter woman in the cabin who took it out on the wrong people. I’ve already said enough hurtful things to my sisters when I let my frustration get the better of me. I don’t want to risk saying something that, in the long term, doesn’t matter just because I was feeling a certain way in that moment. I don’t think she gets that. I wonder how much she forgot what it was like back there. It’s hard to me to erase those memories. When I turn my back, she thinks I’m abandoning her, but she doesn’t see that I’m trying to protect her from another needless fight that doesn’t need to happen.”

She exhaled, revealing how much of their history had exhausted her. Her entire shoulders seemed to deflate, and her fingers massaged the bridge of her nose.

It made all the more sense why she acted the way she did in the past. When she removed herself from a situation she didn’t like, her space wasn’t respected. They cornered her. He pursued her, chasing her relentlessly. She never got to escape the pressure and prodding. Like a stressed animal, she showed teeth, and when they ignored the warnings, she snapped. Worst, they punished her for it.

Now that she got her space, and time to gather herself, she was a completely differently individual, and much easier to talk to. That was his fault – all their faults – and it shouldn’t have taken them this long to see it. He squeezed remorsefully, not quite sure which words could assuage the wounds he cause.

“When you’re ready, you can have that talk,” he encouraged.

“I find that letters might be the only way for me to do it. Feyre and I don’t have very good communication skills. I think sometimes, if I critique her, she takes it personally, and if she critiques me, I blow it off even if it does hurt because it’s not in my nature to admit weakness. That upsets her because she thinks I don’t respect her opinion, or that I don’t listen to her, and I can see now how that would anger her. Rightfully so. It angers me, too, when I feel like I’m ignored, or dismissed. I see that now how we didn’t help each other in that respect.”

“It’s a bit complicated now that things might have changed. You’re not just sisters anymore, not like it used to be. She’s the High Lady. The roles have complicated your relationships in many ways.” He offered his own perspective. “Rhys, Azriel, and I… we’re brothers through bonds, not blood. That doesn’t change much. What does change is the fact that he’s my High Lord, too. As much as I want to disagree with some of his choices, it’s not proper for me to do that, nor my place to. Even though I doubt that he’d ever act on it, I have to keep in mind my position as General is a given one, and wholly dependent on Rhys’ favor. If I were to step too far out of line, he could very well…”

“Do to you what he did to me,” Nesta finished aptly. He bowed and nodded. Rhys made an example out of her disobedience – frightened her to the point of no return. He exiled Azriel for encroaching on another male’s mate, despite Elain’s lack of protest. Consent seemed to be a glaring issue for his High Lord – but not one he paid much mind to, due to the weight of his title, and all the precarious complications that came with it.

Cassian did not envy his position, nor try to understand it.

“I have leniency with Rhys due to our history, and I have never given him cause to question my loyalty,” Cassian nestled up closer to her. “He entrusts me to act in his best interest and keep his army in check. In the hundreds of years we stood side by side, not once did I even suspect he would revoke my command. I only stood against him once.”

“And what happened?” she asked, diverting her sole attention to Cassian.

“He stepped back and respected what I asked of him,” he replied with a tender smile. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, and she was as shy as a maiden. She never felt that kind of devotion before. It was strange and unnerving.

“Nes, you have to understand in the order of things, nothing compared to what you and I have,” he instilled. She froze under his intensity. They had denied it for so long, refusing to breath life into what was so evident. Now, even as they began to slowly nurture the bond, Nesta had yet to fully comprehend the gravity of their pull – or the significance of something so rare and coveted.

“Not a position, not years of brotherhood, nothing holds a candle to when fate grants you an equal in every way imaginable. I could lose everything tomorrow and I’d managed to make by, but if I were to lose you…” he wavered, shaking his head. Her fingers toyed at her wrists, nervous. He pealed the hand off gingerly and pulled it to his lap to cradle it between his own. Careful and gentle, as if she would break if he applied the slightest bit of pressure. “What happened in the House of Wind was a wake-up call that something needed to change. I re-evaluated my priorities and you can trust me to protect what I believe is the most important thing in my life.”

She could only muster a nod.

“Nes,” he pleaded. “Sweetheart. What are you thinking?”

“This is still pretty new to me,” she whispered. She didn’t know what to say, so she applied her other hand atop of his. “It’s a lot to take in. I don’t have five hundred years like you did to prepare myself for something like this. I still struggle to take it one day at a day as I process it all. So much is still foreign to me, and I need time to fully digest exactly what it is I’m stepping into.”

“We can have all the time you need,” he granted, offering a gentle squeeze. “I promised you that.”

She remembered his words – spilled from a dying man’s lips – and how her heart soared and stopped all at once. A great declaration of love only to be shadowed by death itself, and Nesta had believe the only way to salvage that possibility was to hope her end was just a swift, so that she could make most of the time promised in the next life.

She glanced at the letters. Time was imminent and she wondered if she wasted too much of it, spoiling what little left she had to make amends with Feyre. It didn’t settle well that perhaps their final moments of reconciliation would be too hasty and ravaged with remorse over what they could not remedy. There was too much to say, too much to be done, and the threat of death haunted Nesta incessantly.

“You still have plenty of time left,” Cassian answered, as if reading her mind. Had she been that transparent?

“Do I?” she questioned regretfully. I show too little, and she shows too much. It’s not…” she fell into a silence, swallowing something bitter, and it burned her throat. “At least Feyre wears her heart on her sleeve. You get what you get with her. She doesn’t hide anything. I can trust her to be forthcoming with how she feels, good or bad. Perhaps I should work on that myself,” she admitted, offering a dismal smile. “Would that be enough? Would we be content with that if we could not amend the rest that wedged us apart? It’d feel vain, like I failed her again because we couldn’t see it through all the way.”

A tear spilled down her cheek – staining the ink on the parcel she had read ten times over – and her bottom lip wobbled terribly. She doubted Cassian could make sense of her words.

She had been pulled into a hug, and she let herself fall over into his lap when she lost all balance. The urge to sob became overwhelming, wreaking havoc on her body. She concealed the mess of her face with the duvet that she pulled high enough to catch the spillage that leaked from her eyes.

“Hey, you say that like Feyre doesn’t have a chance. You know your sister better than I do, and even I know she isn’t so easily bested,” he consoled. Big hands rubbed her back as she trembled, holding her breath to hold back another awful sound. “This doesn’t have to be a goodbye. No one wants that. What matters most is that she knows you love her, and that you know she loves you, even if you two have your own special way of expressing it. You don’t need to speak the same way that isn’t natural to you but it worth trying to understand other the best you can.”

Nesta’s biggest regret was being unable to forgive their father. All the simmering bitterness and rage dispelled quick after that earth-shattering crack that had been his neck. All that time she took for granted was stolen from her, and her father – despite his faults – had said something she could not quell from her own soul.

I love you.

She had denied herself closure and peace because she clung to what she knew well, and its drained her. She had been deprived of any sense of closure because she couldn’t understand the value of it until it was too late to snatch it back from the jaws of death. It took away every chance of happiness she could have awarded herself, unable to forgive herself in the same way she couldn’t forgive him. She hated the man, but she missed him, too.

Then, that hatred turned on her, and the guilt gnawed on her like a disease. It was a conundrum she could not comprehend. All those opportunities were gone for good. Nothing else could be done to redeem what she had lost and all that remained was all consuming grief. She felt helpless and lost, spiraling downwards as the days blurred with each drink.

She barely survived her father’s demise. She couldn’t live with herself if something happened to Feyre, and she had been too cowardly to make amends. It’d be tough to bridge the gap between them, but the pain would be even worse if she did nothing and waste what precious time they still had. Nothing was promised – not even tomorrow.

So much for immortality…

Watching Nesta cry herself to sleep out of grief for something that hadn’t happened yet was difficult to bear. He knew it was a privilege that she entrusted him, and he took his oath seriously. Nesta only confided in a few and Cassian already had many strikes against him. He had to be delicate about how he approached this.

He couldn’t push Nesta to reconcile, even if she admitted that was something she desired. This was something she had to take the lead on. He had to step back and sit down, allow her to figure it out. She had to find the words herself. He couldn’t guide her hand or give her a script. It wouldn’t be sincere that way.

The rest of them had it so wrong. Nesta was keenly observant, and she felt everything thrown at her. She absorbed it all and took it with stride, but she was not unfeeling. Those walls she built did not deflect insults. Her precious walls she ardently protected simply hid the damage that she carried throughout all those years. A brave face – that’s all she was. A brave face and a big heart. Two sides of the same coin, an older, wiser reflection of the beloved younger sister she had such a terrible time trying to reconnect with.

All that fine porcelain that carved Nesta’s perfect features hid more bruises than he could count. She was battered and battle worn but like she was braver than any soldier he encountered. She hid her pain and put on a face, adorned her amor, and anticipated another barrage. Each day was a new battle, but Nesta wasn’t a quitter. She didn’t run away but she didn’t want to wage war no more than the next person either. She had been another casualty with just as much scars as he did.

He could picture a peaceful, tranquil life with her that’d suit them both after this conflict resolved itself. He tried to envision her smile as the dawn broke, finding joy in a cup of tea and biting on something sweet to start her day. It’d be serenity that’d greet them on the quiet, mountainside. Chaste kisses and groggy good mornings.

That wouldn’t happen if Nesta was shrouded with guilt over what happened with Feyre. Her spats dimmed in comparison to the death sentence the pregnancy condemned Feyre, too. Rhys would be a shell of himself. Nesta would be shattered and ridden with regrets, some unfounded. A court in ruin, usurped by a tyrant, and everyone scrambling for purchase – or their heads.

Running away to some idyllic court with sun and ocean, or thousands of miles away from the discord wouldn’t solve any of the problems that’d plague them both. Nesta wouldn’t allow it – not with so much of her life and friends here, of whom she vowed to remain true to – and Cassian couldn’t abandon his brothers, promising to ride out the storm until the very end.

Problem was the end was impending sooner than expected if a miracle could not be found. Feyre’s death would bring about Rhys’, due to the nature of the pact they made. Stupid. Foolish. Reckless. So many words to describe their idiocy. Devastating.

Nesta would grieve but she’d buried it while facing an uphill battle of resistance. She wouldn’t abandon Illyria, not with so much at stake. Would it even be resistance at that point? A new Lord meant new problems – and Illyrian independence seemed more tangible if the army refused to grant the new Lord a chance to prove himself. How could he fend off an rebelling army if it was his only one? Their hands would be tied, and Illyria would proclaim itself free. Cassian would be disposed of by either side – the deflecting rebels or Keir himself.

Azriel would have better chances of evading certain death and starting anew. Damn his reputation in Autumn, Gwyn’s latest revelation she was the direct descent of the throne ensured he might be granted safe passage, and maybe even a dowry. Eris would legitimize her. Azriel would ironically be the next royal in the sequence of brothers, though not likely highly ranked. Just high enough to be earn diplomatic safety. Though, considering it’s Autumn… Still a better gamble than the former.

Cassian loved Illyria and all the potential it has. It could be something worth being proud of. He couldn’t stand to abandon it and forget it as if it meant nothing to him. Nesta wouldn’t give up her cause either. She’d fight for the females she promised to protect. That’s what he loved about her. That’s what he feared would become of her. Illyria wasn’t safe. She’d join the rank of her sister in the next world. If not by the sword, then by childbirth – either scenario wreaking havoc on his conscience.

If Feyre couldn’t be saved, child included or not, then the future of the Nigh Court was doomed. All of their lives as they knew it suspended. There was so much to grieve… so much change to adapt to… so much uncertainty to face… the unpreventable carnage that’d come following the official decree… Their entire future depended on Feyre’s survival – and even that wasn’t promised.

“I can hear you thinking. Usually I’m the one who’s too quiet,” she met Cassian kindly in the next coming morning. A blanket draped over her shoulder. The storm still hadn’t passed, and the snow was mounting outside.

An effortless way to hold back a rebellion. A terrible sign for those who had a pitiful tent to shield them. Those poor souls would be bodies frozen by now, buried under miles and miles of endless white. They likely wouldn’t be discovered until the springtime unthawed them. Beasts would sooner get to them than another Fae. Realistically, only bones could be salvaged, and usually never in one piece.

Some callous Lords would call it a culling process. Winter rid itself of the weak before battle would. Cassian cast his eyes down into his tea, angry to think such apathy could permeate like a plague.

She coiled herself around his middle, fresh faced, and worn down. He reciprocated her gesture with one harm, the other precariously suspending the tea and avoiding spillage.

“Another snow day,” he croaked, kissing the crown of her head.

“Hmm,” she hummed, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “I suppose it is… Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he redirected, smiling grimly. It felt forced, and it was. He was denying himself and trying to keep up a false pretense.

“You’re not unfeeling, Cassian,” she reprimanded softly. She perked her head up, boring into his eyes. “You have worries, too. What’s wrong? What’s dragging you down?”

“I need to gather more wood before we get low…” he began to list. She narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

“Transparency,” she reminded firmly.

“I don’t want to give up this place, but I fear we might,” he obliged, fisting at her back to urge her closer. “It’s one thing to quell a rebellion. It’s another to transition to a new High Lord. If it reverts to Keir, we might… either we find somewhere no one can reach us, or…”

“I’d never leave,” Nesta stood firm. Her jaw stiffened. “I don’t care about some High Lord. I got rid of a king! I got rid of Beron! I’m a not scared of Keir or any other pompous bastard that thinks because he reigns that he can terrorize everyone beneath him. He is a bully! Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to protect you, and Em, and everyone else that resides her. I’m not going,” she rallied fiercely.

It was that beating heart and the silver-lined fire in her eyes that compelled him to be honest.

“-or we join the resistance.”

“What?” she pushed back but his grip wouldn’t allow them to break apart. Nesta was utterly bewildered, scarcely believing the words. It took him by shock, too. He knew it was uncharacteristic. “What are you saying?”

“So long Rhys is High Lord, I will never betray him to that extent, but if…” he wetted his lips, unable to make sense of the nightmarish possibility that lied ahead. His head bowed and a hair separated their foreheads. He softened to a serious whisper, horrified it’d come to this, but having accepted it the night before as she slumbered. “If he and Feyre don’t make it, and there is no heir to keep the line of succession, a new High Lord will reign, and I swear no loyalty to him.” He vowed defiantly.

“You’d sooner lead a revolt,” she connected, mouth ajar in awe. He had taken her by surprise – a rare feat indeed.

“I can’t leave Illyria to be spoils for another century more. If change needs to happen, we will lead it ourselves. I would sooner join the league of the rebels than let this place be pillaged once more,” he rattled into her. His hands gripped either arm, keeping her still, while his eyes lit aflame with purpose. “I cannot stand by and do nothing. Not again. You understand that more than anyone. This is my home! These are my people! This is the birthplace of my brotherhood! I do not know of anywhere else where I could find deeper roots than here!”

She shoved herself out of his grip. He balked, wondering if this would be their tipping point to no return – if he went too far – only to feel two things happen simultaneously, and in a blur, no less.

He wasn’t sure what came first: her hands surging up to cup his face and pull him down to meet her lips, or her lips crashing onto his with bruising intentions. By the time his mind caught up with what happened, she had already woven on hand through his hair, keeping him locked, while the other gripped the back of his neck like a claw. If his mouth didn’t turn blue, her fingertips would likely leave marks. His hair could hide them, however, he found that he didn’t like the idea of concealing her claim, and he return the favor with vigor.

He reeled back – only for a second – to peel off his upper leathers, so that his torso was bear. She surveyed the canvas that was his chest, tracing the lines with delicate fingers, and fascinated with the stories she did not quite understand. He hoisted her on the counter, and clipped her heels behind him, and guided her hands to his back – yearning to feel the possessive scrape of her nails embed into his skin. Those marks would be irrefutable proof he was just as much hers as much as she was his.

Nesta needed no other cue, digging into the lower skin of his back, and pulling him flush against her. He mirrored the same grip onto her thigh, hating how she still retained her leggings to combat the cold. He had dreamt about making acquaintance with the smooth, lean physique that she adopted since coming to Illyria. The fabric taunted him.

She pried her lips open, gasping for air, and he took the chance to close the distance, and sweep his tongue over them. It was an invitation she did not decline.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fanfic #same name and author on ao3

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